


Take off the suit; Who are you?

by WritingPains



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Tony Stark, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Iron Man 1, Kid Fic, Kid Tony Stark, Maria Stark's A+ Parenting, Nerd Tony Stark, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Science Bros, Secret Identity, reposted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 27,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23926156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingPains/pseuds/WritingPains
Summary: Tony Stark is your typical 12-year-old genius.Or, at least he is until he's kidnapped for three months and forced to become so much more.Then, Tony Stark is a 12-year-old genius with a super-secret and super-hero friends.(From Ironman 1 onwards)*** Please Note ***This is a revised and reposted version of a fic that was deleted.My last fic was removed for a violation of the websites rules. I'd self-promoted my book and hadn't realised it wasn't allowed.
Relationships: Howard Stark & Maria Stark & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Avengers Team, Tony Stark & Ho Yinsen
Comments: 121
Kudos: 423





	1. Chapter 1

Take off the suit; Who _are_ you?

Chapter One

“Master Anthony, please. You need to rest,” Jarvis urges.

“No, Jarvis, what I need is to finish this,” Tony argues gesturing to the workshop table covered in things that Jarvis couldn’t even begin naming. “You’ll appreciate it when I do, I swear.”

“Master Anthony, the only thing I appreciate is your health. Now, please, I must insist, come to bed.”

“But _Jarvis,_ come on,” Tony whines, eyes unmoving, focused intently on the project in front of him.

Jarvis shakes his head and wraps his long fingers around Tony’s wrist. He doesn’t grip it hard enough to hurt, only to add enough pressure to remind the boy that there’s a world beyond the project in which he’s lost himself. As per usual, Tony’s head snaps to his wrist and then slowly looks up at Jarvis’s face.

“You’ve been down here for sixteen hours. You need a proper meal and then bed.”

Tony looks back down at his project and then rubs at his eyes, smearing grease across his face.

“I’m not a baby,” Tony grumbles, even as he clears up the work desk. “I don’t need to be looked after.”

“No, you’re twelve, and you need someone to _manage_ you,” Jarvis corrects. “Now, come along. Ana has made your favourite.”

Tony skips giddily to the door, looking back every few seconds to ensure that Jarvis is still following. Ana always knows when he needs a pick-me-up. Usually, Tony spending twenty hours uninterrupted isn’t unheard of, but there had been a big argument with his father earlier. Jarvis knew that if Tony wallowed any further, he’d have to drag Tony out by his ear.

It had all started the week before when Howard said Tony was going on a trip. It came to a head this morning when Tony discovered that neither of his parents would be at his side. Worse, it would see him on the other side of the world.

Tony hadn’t wanted to go on the business trip with Uncle Obie. Still, his father insisted that now was the time he started to have a more active role in the company and to orchestrate a weapons demonstration with his father's right-hand man was the best introduction to the life.

Tony didn’t want to go for many reasons.

First, Uncle Obie is a damn bore. Tony loves him, but Obie only ever wants to talk about Tony’s ‘ideas’ for the future. Usually, Tony doesn’t think much passed his current project. He shouldn’t need to. None of the other kids at school has to make plans to take over the family business when they’re older.

Second, Tony has never travelled that far without either of his parents there with him. Afghanistan is a _long_ way away. Trips across the world usually are, but the distance always feels so much more prominent when he and his mum and dad aren’t together. He doesn’t want to go without them, but his father had insisted upon it.

Hence the argument.

The only reprieve from the enforced trip is that Colonel Rhodes will be there. He’s the military liaison between Stark Industries and the air force, and he’s been around since Tony was a toddler. Their friendship started with hair ruffles and secret candy, but as Tony got old enough to form full sentences, he was able to have real conversations with Rhodes, and now Tony considers Rhodey his best friend.

“I don’t want to go, Jarvis. Can’t you ask Dad to keep me here?!

“You’ll be fine,” Jarvis assures, as they head upstairs. “Obadiah and Colonel Rhodes will keep you safe.”

“I’m not worried about being safe. I’m worried about being bored. Could you come with me?”

“I wish I could, Anthony, but your father is almost as careless with his health as you are. Someone has to stay behind to watch over him.”

Tony giggles as he jumps up on a stool, where Ana starts serving him risotto with a loving smile.

“Glad to see you out of that wretched room, Anthony. Now. Eat up. And for goodness sake, clean that grease from your face.”

Tony digs in, hungrier than he’d even noticed. Ana takes this as an opportunity to scrub at his face with a napkin, clicking her tongue when Tony tries to lean away.

“Gross, Ana. Are you using your spit?” Tony groans, turning his head to the side.

“I’ve changed your diapers, Tony. You don’t get to speak to me about ‘gross’.”

As his face burns red, Tony allows Ana’s reign of ickiness.

Once he’s eaten, Jarvis ushers Tony into the bathroom with strict instructions to wash and brush his teeth.

Tony climbs into his bed that night, staring resentfully at the packed suitcase by the door. He’s not looking forward to this trip, but it’ll appease his father, and if he thinks about it right, it’ll be like an extended vacation with his best friend.

~

“Tony!”

Grinning, Tony runs up the jet stairs, throwing himself into Rhodes’s arms. Happy follows closely behind and stores Tony’s suitcase in an overhead locker.

“Rhodey! Hi!”

Rhodey gives him a tight squeeze and then leads him inside, where Uncle Obie sits, with a tumbler of scotch in his hand and a stack of paper on the table in front of him. He looked up at Tony’s arrival and stood to greet him with a crushing hug. Tony doesn’t like the smell of alcohol, but he greets his Uncle enthusiastically anyway.

“Your father told me you weren’t happy about making this trip, but I’m glad he talked you into it. It’s about time you get your fingers in the family business, Anthony, my boy. Come, we’re about to take off. Put on your seat belt.”

Before doing so, Tony hugs Happy.

“Remember what I told you on the ride, Kid. Stick close to Colonel Rhodes. I’ll see you in a few days.”

“I promise,” Tony whispers, pulling away. “See you soon!”

Happy shakes hands with Rhodey and offers Stane a nod – which Obadiah does not return or acknowledge – and disembarks the plane.

“Tony. Seatbelt. Now.”

Tony does as he’s told, sitting in a chair opposite Rhodes, who calls the stewardess to bring them both some orange juice. The seatbelt clicks over his lap, and he accepts the cold glass with a bright smile.

“You’re adorable,” the steward says.

“Am not.”

“Would you like anything else, sir?” the man asks, ignoring the denial. “Some hot Sake?”

“No, thank you. The adorable child and I are good with just the juice.”

Rhodes can sometimes be talked into drinking during work, but he never drinks around Tony. Tony appreciates it. His father makes an effort sometimes, too. He doesn’t want Tony to think that alcohol is a healthy crutch, but Tony knows his father has a bottle of whiskey under his desk at all times. Tony used to spend a lot of time playing under there as a child, often being given chocolate by his father when his mother wasn’t there to scold them for it.

“Miss Potts has sent word ahead that the demonstration will be on schedule. We have some time to settle into the hotel when we get there, and we’ll be picked up by a convoy in the morning. Jarvis packed you a suit, as far as I’m aware, and Mr Rhodes is providing a vest.”

Rhodes bristles at the lack of recognition for his position, but he nods anyway.

“A _bullet-proof_ vest?” Tony asks, shaken. “Will I need one?”

“Not at all,” Rhodes assures.

“But it’s better safe than sorry, my boy.”

Tony nods, but he’s suddenly far more apprehensive about this trip than he was a moment ago.

“Don’t worry, Tones,” Rhodes says, putting a hand on the table between the two of them. “I’ll keep you by my side the entire time. It’s just a demonstration. I’ve done these a dozen times with your father, and we’ve never had a problem.”

Tony nods again, his gaze straying to the window.

Little did any of them know that less than twenty-four hours later, Tony will be thrown into a dirty cave with a bloody chest.

“Save him,” someone orders, the words barely breaching Tony’s consciousness. “Do whatever you have to.”


	2. Chapter 2

For a second, Tony is awake. He blinks once, and then again, eyes taking in the horror above him. A man, one he’s never seen before, has his hands in Tony’s chest. Tony can _feel_ it. He can feel the invading fingers touching places that no one should ever be touching. He’s unconscious again before the scream he so desperately needs to release has even passed his throat.

“I’m doing what I can, kid, I promise.”

Tony can taste copper in his mouth when his eyes open again. The man above him, the one with a mask over his face, and wearing blood on his hands like gloves, stares back.

“I’m trying to save you.”

Tony doesn’t know what that means, but his mind falls back, and everything goes dark.

Tony snaps his eyes shut before he’s even realised that he’s opened them. The lights burn, but so does his entire body. He knows he’s been awake before, knows that the pain isn’t as bad as it was, but he still finds himself praying for the reprieve from the panic he’s feeling.

His senses, however, are sharpening. He knows he’s not going to be falling asleep again any time soon.

The pain in his chest is still there, but somehow it’s not as prominent as it was when he’d woken the last two times. Drowsily, he lifts a hand to his face and tries to rub away the sleep there. Instead, his fingers encounter something else.

Something rounded is currently threaded into his nose.

Weak fingers pull on it, only to feel the most unpleasant sensation from the back of his throat to his nostril. Feeling no more coherent but far more panicked, Tony pulls faster, until a tube lands on his lap. Shaking, Tony lifts it up for inspection.

It looks like a hospital feeding tube. Why would Tony have that?

A flare of pain burns at his chest as he attempts to sit up. The pain is enough to shock a scream out of him, and a second later, someone has their hands on his shoulders.

“Tony, you need to calm down. Don’t move.”

“ _Get off me!”_ Tony screeches, trying and failing to move away.

The man’s hands fly up in surrender, and he takes a step back. Tony watches, and then his eyes shift past the man. He begins to take in his surroundings, and he finds nothing familiar. The walls are stone, there are wires everywhere, a furnace to the side, and a set of large iron doors. It's cold, it’s dirty, and it smells terrible.

Tony’s lower lip quivers as his fingers explore his chest, ignoring the pain. There’s a circular module lodged inside his chest, and the wires from it lead into a car battery. The skin around it looks horrendous, and Tony’s shaking fingers trace the rim of the device.

“You have shrapnel in your chest,” the man explains. “We needed something to keep it from getting to your heart.”

“An electromagnet,” Tony guesses, his voice weak with disbelief. “In my chest.”

The man moves from Tony’s side to stand in front of him. He’s got a kind face, but Tony has learnt that faces mean nothing. People are deceptive, and this man may be the one who took Tony. However, considering the circumstances in which he finds them both and the state of the man’s clothing, Tony can only construe that they’re both captives.

“What happened?” Tony whispers.

Yinsen throws himself into the explanation, and Tony has the thin, ragged blankets clutched in his fists as he listens. His chest tightens in fear, and by the end, he can’t help but let a few tears spill.

“I want my dad,” Tony begs, sounding like a stupid baby, but he doesn’t care. “I want my mom, my dad, my Jarvis, my Rhodes. I don’t want to be here.”

The man carefully wraps an arm around Tony’s shoulder, and he looks equally as distraught.

“I can’t believe they brought a child into this,” the man hisses. “I’ll do everything I can to help you get out, but I can’t… it’s not that easy.”

As if to prove a point, a second later, the door is thrown open, and several men come barging in. Two of them grab Tony and pull him away, while another points a gun at the other captives’ head.

Tony screams as he’s dragged from the room, and the man who helped him watches on sadly, as though he knows what is going to happen.

“Shut it up,” one of the men complains in heavily accented English.

Tony whimpers around the dirty hand someone presses against his mouth, and he’s lifted off the ground and carried into another room. The battery is placed on a chair, and his hands are being restrained behind his back. Once they deem them tight enough, they shove Tony into the chair, and something is placed over his head.

The men around him are talking, but the words are all foreign to Tony. He doesn’t understand them at all. He feels like his heart is going to explode from the fear, and his body is positively shivering.

Nothing here makes any sense. Waking up to a strange room, where a strange man was placing a strange object in his chest, in a strange cave and surrounded by strange people speaking an unfamiliar language.

It’s cold. It’s scary.

He just wants to go _home._

Later that day, after they had made him stare at a stupid camera (likely for ransom), he’s taken into another room. One of the men has a tight grip on his arm, and he knows that it’s going to leave a mark.

This room is large, with spotlights drilled into the walls, shining down on tables filled with weaponry.

They’re talking to the other man, and Tony uses that time to look around at all their weapons. None of them is particularly high-tech, which means this place isn’t as well funded as he would have thought.

That being said, they’re obviously well organised.

Kidnapping a Stark is no easy task, especially the lone heir. Tony can’t figure out how they managed to get through Obie, who is pretty good with strategical safety procedures. Even Rhodes, who is fierce and intelligent, and everything Tony wants to be in the future. They’re supposed to have kept Tony safe.

“They want you to build the weapons for them,” the man translates.

Tony blinks once, and then twice, turning to face everyone.

“I can’t build weapons,” he states blandly. “Dad never let me.”

The man translates.

“They say you are a genius. They expect you to have it done. If you succeed, they will let you go.”

“No, they won’t,” Tony says, biting his lip.

“No, they won’t,” the man admits.

“Doesn’t matter. I won’t build them anything.”

The man translates, though he looks like he’s doing it reluctantly. Tony discovers later why that is.

“ _Please—STOP._ ”

Tony is dying, he’s sure of it. His head is being pushed under the water until his body screams to be given air, and then pulled up just before he actually fills his lungs.

Shuddering, Tony tries desperately to suck in air, but the coldness envelops his face, and he’s choking again.

Again and again, they allow Tony to try and breathe before shoving him into the water, until eventually, Tony passes out.

When he wakes up, he’s back on the bed in the cave, and the man is leaning over him, patting a towel over Tony’s hair.

“I’m Yinsen, by the way,” the man says softly.

“Tony,” Tony manages to croak.

“I know.”

Tony is depleted. He has no energy. His body aches, and his throat sears and his lungs burn, and he just wants to go home. Why can’t he just go back?

“I want my mom,” Tony sobs brokenly.

Yinsen just sits, drying Tony as best as he can.

~

“We met before, you know,” Yinsen says, as they eat their bread and drink their water.

Tony is tearing apart the bread with his shaky fingers and trying not to look at the water. It makes him feel sick, and it brings about an uncomfortable uneasiness in him.

Catching his reflection in the glittering surface throws him back to the feeling of having the air stolen from his lungs in a splash of freezing cold wetness. Fears of the electromagnet sparking and killing him threaten to send him spiralling into a panic attack.

“We did?” Tony latches on gratefully to the distraction. “When? I’m usually good with faces.”

“I’d be surprised if you remembered me. It was in Stockholm, and I think you were about eight years old. It was almost midnight, and you were half asleep holding your dad’s hand. I spoke to your father briefly, along with a world-renowned doctor. You had your eyes closed and were tucked under your fathers arm. It was quite the contrast from you earlier that night. You were causing quite the scene at dinner.”

Tony throws his mind back and grins.

“I tried to make automatic saltshakers from my dad's phone,” he remembers. “Dad was so angry, but he said I could have ice-cream anyway.”

“Despite that sugar, you were barely awake to welcome in the new year.”

Tony smiles at the memory, but it crumbles a second later.

“I miss my dad.”

Yinsen doesn’t hesitate to pull Tony in for a hug. Tony sobs into his shoulder, scared, confused and desperate to see his family again.

He’s not sure the nightmare is ever going to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably spend most of tomorrow editing the other chapters. Get ready for a wave of chapters. Hopefully we can get this fic back on track!
> 
> I almost forgot how much I loved this fic.


	3. Chapter 3

A day later, Tony has endured the water torture three more times. It’s as they’re going for the forth he gives in.

“I’ll do it. I’ll make the weapons,” this Tony agrees miserably. “Please. Not again. I’ll do it.”

With a dark grin and a muttered victory, the torturer dismisses Tony with a mindless wave of his hand. Tony is lifted, a hand around his stomach, and dragged from the room. As he gasps, tears mixing with the dirty water he’s been soaked in, his face burns with shame.

He’s ashamed of himself for breaking so quickly, but what is he supposed to do about it? It won’t stop unless he agrees to their terms, and he knows that they won’t let him die. He’s begged for that already.

His stomach aches with the pressure of being hauled like a ragdoll, and Tony finds himself looking forward to the cold, dry cave. At least Yinsen is there. At least there’s something that resembles warmth.

Suddenly, Tony is blinded by sunlight.

He cringes away, an arm coming to shield him, but he’s shoved forward, and eventually, his eyes adjust.

What he sees makes his blood run cold.

Around him are stalls filled with weapons, sun glinting off their horrifying bodies, and as he’s marched forward, he can see something worse. He can see the printed words claiming that they’re all Stark Industries weapons.

“How did you get all this?” Tony demands.

A dull smack on the back of his head throws him forward. Pain flares through his knees and the car battery knocking uncomfortably against the magnet. It knocks the air from his lungs, but he doesn’t have the time to curl up and suffer through. Two sets of hands grab his upper arms, and he’s pulled back into standing position.

“Don’t talk unless spoken to,” a new voice orders.

Tony is turned, and he finds a man walking towards them.

“Ah, Anthony Stark, what a pleasure.”

Tony sneers at him.

“You tell us what you need to build what we want, and we’ll bring it to you. Maybe, if you behave, we’ll bring you some ice-cream. How about that?”

Tony glowers at him, not in the least bit motivated by the idea of ice cream. What he wants is to not have to endure another minute of torture again. Because of that, he starts pointing out items, and when he’s done, he’s taken back to the room.

Yinsen doesn’t judge him.

“You’re strong,” Yinsen promises.

“I _broke,_ ” Tony laments. “I told them I’d work for them.”

Yinsen squeezes his shoulder.

“But you have no intention of doing that, do you?”

Tony grins.

“Not on my life.”

Yinsen smiles.

Within two weeks, Tony has managed to build a miniature arc reactor. Yinsen wasn’t sure if it would work, but he was thoroughly impressed when it was done. He helped Tony load it into his chest and then watched with bated breath as it came to life.

“How does it feel?” Yinsen asks, wiping away at the blood.

“Like I don’t have a car battery keeping me alive.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No more than before.”

“You truly are a genius,” Yinsen praises.

“So I’ve been told. I’ve already got early access to MIT, you know. Dad says I need to wait until I’m fourteen, though. Apparently, twelve is too young for college.”

“Your father is right,” Yinsen nods.

“Shame I might never get there.”

Silence falls upon them, but Tony doesn’t let it last long.

“Let’s cannibalise this,” Tony stays, gesturing to the pile of weapons in the corner. “See what else my genius can create.”

Two months.

It takes two months. Two exhausting months, in which time Tony has wondered where his dad was, where Rhodes was, where Obie was. Were they even looking for him? Did they want to find him? Did they think he was already dead?

Tony hopes that they have. For the sake of their sanity, their comfort, he hopes that they’ve started to move on. Even though it may be in vain, he hopes they had time away from worrying about him.

In those two months, Tony has taken apart a few hundred weapons that the terrorists never should have been able to get their hands. He’s forged armour in sweat and fear, managed to keep it hidden through sheer will, and hoped against all the odds that he and Yinsen will be free.

It’s not been easy.

Tony and Yinsen have built enough of the actual weapon to not raise suspicion, but they know it’s only a matter of time. They’re working against a clock with an unknown limit.

Tony also never got that ice cream.

“We’re _days_ away from completion,” Tony says excitedly. “We’ll both be free again, and we can go back to our families.”

Yinsen smiles indulgently, but Tony doesn’t notice, too caught up in his work.

“I’m sure they’re as excited to see us as we are to see them.”

Tony feels high on life, but with a bone-shaking crash, reality smacks him back down to earth. Looking fervently from the suit to Yinsen and then to the door, he’s suddenly filled with fear.

“Crap.”

“Those days… can you turn them into minutes?” Yinsen asks.

“I’ll have to. Climb into the armour,” Tony orders.

Yinsen doesn’t move. Tony huffs in frustration, close to tears with panic.

“Yinsen, come on, we don’t have time. Get in. I’ll load it up, and you can get us out of here.”

Still, the man remains unmoved.

“You need more time,” Yinsen says.

Tony grabs the mans jacket before he’s able to make a swift getaway.

“It’s too risky,” Tony says. “Please, don’t. Just… stick with the plan!”

Yinsen pries Tony’s hands from his jacket and lifts him up.

“Yinsen, put me down!”

But he doesn’t. He carefully straps Tony into the suit, all the while Tony is begging him not to. He’s not strong enough to fight through. He’s stuck, and he watches with baleful eyes as Yinsen lifts two large guns from the weapons pile and carries them out.

With one last backwards glance, he smiles at Tony.

“I’ll be waiting on the other side, Tony.”

With no options to do anything else, Tony nods, and then he stares at the small computer screen as the loading bar fills. It’s agonisingly slow. All he can hear is the shouting and gunfire. Any one of those bullets could be the one that ends Yinsen’s life. Tony finds himself praying that he gets to see his friend again.

Finally, the computer loads up, and the suit comes to life with a groan.

The suit was made for someone much bigger than him, taller, but he’s able to yank it from the chains which were holding it aloft. The feet crash into the ground, the mask falls into place, and Tony sucks in a lungful of air in preparation.

At the end of each hand is a weapon, and he’s ready to kill some terrorists, save his friend and then see his family again.

The suit steps forward, shaking the ground with its immense weight. The moment he steps out of the door, he’s fired at. Instinctively, Tony flinches away with a cry of panic. His muscles coil, his fear sky-rockets, and then… nothing.

Opening his eyes, Tony almost laughs with relief as the bullets bounce harmlessly from his armour. They patter to the ground like raindrops.

The people around him, with scarves wrapped around their faces and hard, angry eyes, do not lower their weapons. Whether they’re idiots or incredibly brave, Tony doesn’t know. What he’s certain of though is that despite the planning and the weeks of growing resentment, Tony doesn’t want to fire back.

The clunking of his feet as he steps away encourages the soldiers, and their gunfire increases ten-fold.

“I’ll shoot,” he shouts in warning. “Move out of my way!”

Titters spread through the group, and Tony hears rather than feels a thud when someone launches themselves onto his back. Immediately, a spark burns against his flesh, and he hears a dull scratching.

The man jumps back, screwdriver in his hand. A moment later, he launches himself back at Tony. Without a second of hesitation, Tony swings his arm out. The crack that echoes off the stone walls is as horrific as Tony imagined it would be. It takes a lot of effort to keep the measly contents of his stomach where they need to be. Everyone surges forward at the same moment, and Tony can’t find a better option other than to close his eyes and allow the gun to fire.

When he opens his eyes again, they immediately fill with tears. He’s never killed someone before. He’s never had to. He’s never even hurt someone before. The massacre before him steals away something from inside of him. He swallows back the need to cry, straightens his shoulders and then moves forward.

The hallways are winding, but he’s got a great memory. He knows in which direction to head, and he hopes that Yinsen did too. In the distance, he can hear the distinct snap, snap, snap of gunfire. The suit weighs him down, but he rushes as much as he's capable.

Rounding the corner, he spies several men standing around, aiming their guns down. Tony lifts his weapons high. The whirring of the mechanics distracts the men, who all turn around and rain fire down on Tony.

With precision he didn’t know he was capable of, he shoots a single shot for each bad guy. They drop like cans on a shelf during an earthquake. None of their deaths brings Tony any satisfaction. However, he distances himself from the sickly sadness he knows he’s feeling deep down.

When the dust settles, and the noise dies down, Tony notices a familiar face among the dead.

Yinsen.

The older man is draped over a pile of rice sacks, a bullet wound in his shoulder steadily bleeding. Yinsen smiles.

“Come on then,” he says casually. “Let’s get out of here.”

Tony holds out an arm with a grin. Yinsen reaches up, but as his fingers brush against the hands of the suit, his arm falls, and his body collapses. For a second, Tony is frozen with confusion, and then slowly, several things register with him.

First, the spatter of blood across his helmet. Second, the ringing in his ears. Third, the man he’s come to know as Raza stepping into his eye line, gun held aloft in his hand with a wicked smile on his face.

“What did you do?” Tony asks.

“A stupid question,” the man says, voice harsh, “asked by a child.”

“You’ve already lost,” Tony chokes out.

“You thought you would win?” the man growls. “You will lose. You will always lose.”

Tony doesn’t feel any conflict when he lifts a hand and fire blasts out, striking the man.

There are more people, more terrorists, and with a cold sense of numbness, Tony takes them all down. Once outside, he sets the piles upon piles of weaponry ablaze.

Once he’s sure that nothing will survive the fire, he leaves the ground. His stomach swoops as he rises higher and higher into the air.

As he flies away, the cave and the weapons and everything that has haunted him for the last three months explodes.

There’s no satisfaction in it. His heart hurts. Images of everything flashes before his eyes, the bodies, the torture, the cold, unforgiving walls.

And now here he is, flying over a dessert. Alone.

He’d expected Yinsen to be with him, but he’s not. He’s dead. And he’s the only reason Tony _isn’t_.

He’s free, but those memories will never leave him. He’s never going to be genuinely free of what was done to him.

The suit loses power after twenty minutes, and Tony crashes to the ground. As he jolts, limbs smashing painfully against the metal, pieces of the suit begin to break apart. He rolls, skin rubbing against the sand. A scream is torn from him, lesions growing, and he’s left suitless and breathless, laying sprawled over the ground.

He stays there for a while, crying and writhing in pain. He doesn’t sit up. Doesn’t try to stand. Not yet. He needs to think about what he needs to do next.

What is the plan? Where should he go? What if someone else survived? They might be coming after him.

That. That thought it was pushes him to act.

Tony struggles to his feet and starts to walk.

Around him, the nothingness is endless. There’s no markers, no way to know if he’s getting closer to anything, nothing to say whether he’s even moving at all. The sun burns at his already torn skin. He pulls the bloody, grease-stained, sweat-soaked shirt to cover his head. He stumbles but forges on.

Hours pass. Tony only knows because the sun is sinking over the sandy horizon. His body is losing the last of its energy. His mouth is as dry as the ground. The world spins. The idea of just shutting off; laying down and closing his eyes; it’s becoming more appealing by the second.

Yeah. Maybe Tony can just go to sleep. There’s nothing he can do otherwise.

One more step comes with a noise. A whipping of air. A steady thrum. Like the beating of a hummingbirds wings magnified by a million. Another step and the sand around him is thrown into the air, as though sucked into a tornado. Tony shields his eyes, and risks looking upwards.

The sunlight burns at his retinas, but a small smile pulls at his lips at the view.

Setting down around him in a storm of noise and sand are three military chinooks. Men dressed in military garb file out, and they separate, like the ocean under the command of Moses.

In the space between them, Rhodey appears. There’s nothing professional about the way Colonel Rhodes drops to his knees and pulls Tony into a hug so hard that it hurts.

“Tony.”

“Rhodey.”

“It’s good to have you back, kiddo. I’ve missed you. We’ve all missed you.”

Tony can’t speak around the lump in his throat. He doesn’t complain when Rhodey lifts him from the ground, and he doesn’t talk as he’s carried into the helicopter.

“Let’s get you home,” Rhodey whispers as they leave the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd get more done this weekend, but I was wrong. I ended up watching all of Brooklyn 99 and going out for a friends birthday.
> 
> I did manage to get this re-written and edited though! Enjoy!
> 
> WritingPains.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another chapter.

Tony’s body hurts, and he can’t stop crying. Rhodey tries to talk to him, but none of the words makes any sense to him. The first time he feels even vaguely coherent is when Rhodey lays him down on a hospital gurney.

“No!” Tony begs, reaching out to grab Rhodey’s hand. “Don’t leave me!”

“I won’t, Tony, I promise, but I need to get a first aid kit to stop the bleeding.”

Tony looks down at himself and finds that he sustained more injuries on the fall than he had even realised. Upon seeing the burns and open wounds across his skin, Tony hisses in pain. It’s more than just the ache from the reactor and the hurt from three months in captivity. Now it’s more superficial, and somehow, it helps. Tony can focus more on being in the helicopter more than on the cave.

“I promise I’ll only be a second.”

Rhodey doesn’t leave his sight as he reaches under the seats and pulls out a first aid kit.

“Some of these injuries are beyond by first aid understanding. We’ll clean everything up, OK? When we get to the plane, there’ll be a doctor.”

Tony flinches as Rhodey cleans the cuts on his face and arms, but when Rhodey tries to lift his shirt, Tony jolts upwards, pushes Rhodey away and curls in on himself.

“Tony?”

Tony starts rocking, tightening his arms around his knees.

“No.”

“Tony, come on, I need to see whatever other injuries you have.”

Tony shakes his head fervently, and Rhodey takes a step back, concern seeping out of his pores. He looks at a loss, but there’s anger in his eyes.

“I can’t,” Tony gasps. “Please.”

“What did they do to you?” Rhodey asks, fearfully.

Tony considers his options. Maybe the only person that will truly understand the new addition to his chest is his father, and he’s scared to show anyone else. He’s suddenly far more vulnerable than he has ever been in his life. While he doesn’t believe Rhodey will do anything to hurt him, the fact remains that the more people that know about the reactor in his chest, the higher the chance of someone using it against him.

“Tony… did they… did they _touch_ you?”

“Well, they had to,” Tony shrugs, wincing at the pain. “When they dragged me around the cave.”

“But, did they… you know… touch you somewhere they shouldn’t have?”

“What?”

Rhodey screws his face up.

“What’s wrong, Tony? Why won’t you take your shirt off?”

Tony takes a deep breath and checks that the pilot isn’t paying them any attention. He doesn’t need more eyes on him than necessary. He can trust Rhodey. Rhodey won’t tell anyone, especially if Tony begs him not to.

He uncurls and slowly lifts his shirt, biting down on his lip at the pain.

“Oh shit,” Rhodey whispers uncharacteristically. “Is that—”

“A miniature arc reactor. When the cars were attacked, one of the bombs went off next to me. There’s shrapnel in my chest. We had to build an electromagnet to get it out. At first, it was attached to a car battery, but after the waterboarding, I knew that it was only a matter of time before they accidentally electrocuted me to death. So, Yinsen and I built this.” Tony looks down at the reactor and then hurriedly adds, “you can’t tell anyone!”

Rhodey is gaping, his eyes hard and his face paling.

“Waterboarded?”

Tony hangs his head. He really doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.

“OK. OK. We won’t… this thing in your chest, is there anything I can do?”

Tony shakes his head sadly, and Rhodey starts to clean the other cuts around his chest before helping Tony put his shirt back on. One he’s covered in bandages, Tony lays back down and his eyes meet Rhodey’s.

“Where is my dad?” Tony whispers. “I want to see my dad.”

“He’s at the airport. We’re going straight there, and then we’ll get you on a plane and back home in no time.”

Rhodey takes Tony’s hand, and they spend the rest of the ride in silence, Tony thinking about seeing his family again and Rhodey thinking about how much he’d love to be able to rip apart the bastards who hurt his friend.

~

“Tony?”

Eyes opening slowly, Tony squints against the lights. Blearily, Tony looks around, and then sits up with a jolt when what he see’s _isn’t_ the walls of the cave.

“Tony?”

The hand holding his squeezes, and Tony breathes out a long breath when he see’s Rhodey. Rhodey smiles back, but jerks his head to the side. Following his signal, Tony turns.

Immediately, Tony pushes from the gurney and rushes out of the helicopter.

His father lifts Tony off the ground with the force of his hug.

“Oh, God, Tony. I thought I’d never see you again,” his father chokes out.

His hands are rough in Tony’s hair, and then he’s pushing Tony away, his hands roaming across his body, checking to make sure every part of him is there. Despite the pain, despite the memories that haunt him, being near his father again makes him feel safe.

“Your mother and Jarvis have been told. They’re waiting at home.”

Tony is pulled into another tight hug before slowly being led towards a military plane. Rhodey jogs to catch up with them. He whispers something into Howard’s ear, and then moves ahead of them. Howard doesn’t let go of him the whole way.

The new plane is clearly meant for the higher-ups in the military. It’s plush enough inside that it’s not just seats facing each other. There seats that are closer to armchairs than airplane seats, and a TV in the front.

Rhodey brings a blanket over as the medical examiner comes aboard to check Tony over.

“I’m going to give you a general check-up. If you have any broken bones or signs of any sickness, I’ll be informing the hospital in New York. Otherwise, you’ll be allowed to go straight home.”

With a nod, the examination begins. The man feels up Tony’s arms, legs, and runs his fingers across Tony’s scalp. Finally, as he’s preparing to listen to Tony’s lungs, Tony jerks backwards and pushes himself into the chair.

“I need to make sure your lungs are doing OK.”

Tony shakes his head, turning to his father with pleading eyes.

“Dad, he… you need to see something that the doctor can’t see.”

“I must insist—”

“I’m sorry, Gerard. Please, give us a moment?”

Gerard’s eyes shine with worry, but he nods and moves away deeper into the plane. Once Tony is sure that his father is the only one that can see, he pulls the neckline of his ratty shirt down. The glow of the reactor reflects in his father’s eyes.

“What did they do to you?” Howard says.

“This wasn’t them. This was my friend. His name was Yinsen.”

The explanation Tony gives leaves him shaking. Howard pulls Tony onto his lap.

“Don’t worry, Tony. We’ll do what we can to fix you.”

Tony trusts his dad. If anyone can help him get the reactor out of his chest, it will be Howard.

From there, it’s a flurry of movement. Tony grants the doctor access to every injury _except_ his chest. His father stands by his side the entire time. Rhodey spends a lot of the journey organising Tony’s return with Stark Industries Public Relations manager, Pepper Potts. She’s trying to wrangle the information that the reporters are getting, drawing them off the scent of their actual landing place.

However, it’s proving harder than it should be. Potts is adamant that there is a leak, but no one can figure out who it is. With less than an hour before they return state-side, Potts is at her wit's end trying to give the Starks some privacy.

“I just don’t understand. The only people who know that Tony is returning is you guys,” she says on the phone. “I can’t figure out who would be giving out the information.”

“We’re going to head home. Don’t tell anyone else. Let the press think we’re going to the hospital. Keep them out of our hair for a while.”

“Yes sir. Is that all?”

“That’s all. Thank you Miss Potts.”

Howard hangs up and gently guides Tony’s head onto his shoulder.

“Everything will be OK soon.”

It won’t be. But for now, what he’s got is better than what he had.

Tony is in and out of sleep the rest of the way home, feeling safer than he has in months in the arms of his father and with Rhodey standing close by. No one asks him any questions.

Tony isn’t naïve. He knows that eventually he’ll have to sit down and talk about his time with the Ten Rings. He’s just grateful that his dad is giving him the space he needs. Tony isn’t sure when he’s going to be able to talk about it, and some parts are definitely going to be harder than others.

And some parts will likely be left out forever.

For a start, he’s not sure he can talk about the torture or Yinsen without inducing some kind of panic attack. Furthermore, he doesn’t want anyone to know about the armour.

He’s not sure why, exactly. His father, for one, would be impressed, and the technological possibilities could mean endless protection for Rhodey on his missions with the military. But he doesn’t want to offer it out. He wants to keep it to himself. Selfish or not, Tony will not tell a living soul about the amour.

“Tony, we’ve got an audience at the airport, I’m afraid. The plan is to get you straight into the limo and then off to home. Don’t talk to anyone. Here,” Rhodey hands over an oversized hooded sweatshirt. “Put this on. It’ll hide most of your injuries.”

Howard puts his own hands through the cuffs of the jumper and then takes Tony’s only good hand. Howard then threads the shirt over Tony’s body and pulls it down. It reminds Tony of when he was younger and struggled to get dressed. His mouth twitches at the memory of Howard always ‘forgetting’ how T-shirts worked, and then ticking Tony while he was lost in the torso of the top.

The sweatshirt swamps him. He recognises that he’s lost a lot of weight he couldn’t afford to lose, but the shirt makes him look like a tiny child.

“Huh,” Howard says, looking at Tony and ruffling his hair. “You look so tiny, that alone might garner a sympathetic response from the reporters. It might be what we need to stop them from digging into this story too deeply.”

Tony pulls a face, and his father mirrors it.

“Ok, well… most of the reporters.”

The plane reaches the ground and comes to a halt. Tony is led to a wheelchair and Rhodey corrals him into it. He’s not happy, but he doesn’t fight it. His body is tired. He’s in pain. He’s not sure he can suffer through the pressure of the press while remaining upright.

Much to his surprise, the press doesn’t start screaming questions. Only a few even bother to take photographs. Most watch as Tony is wheeled down the ramp with sympathetic expressions.

The silence that surrounds them is so unusual that it twists at Tony’s insides.

Tony must look a real pathetic sight if they’re not hounding him for the dirty details of his experience. Not that he’s complaining, though he does pull the sweatshirt up to his face in an attempt to hide behind it.

“He’s just a kid,” Tony hears someone whisper. “It’s so easy to forget, but he’s just a child. Lord knows what those terrorists put him through. I’m not sure I want to know.”

At least Howard was right. They really aren’t interested in getting the scoop on Tony’s ordeal.

“Let’s go see your mother,” Howard says as he lifts Tony into the back seat of the limo. “Jarvis and Ana will be grateful to have another person to fret over. We’ve all missed you terribly.”

Happy, the family driver, smiles at Tony, bright and full of love, and Rhodey climbs in after them. Together, they drive away from the crowd and towards Stark Manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another chapter.
> 
> I hope you're all doing alright!
> 
> Love,  
> WritingPains.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Tony becomes aware that he’d fallen asleep again when he’s woken by his father.

“Wake up, Anthony. We’re almost home.”

“Home?”

“Home.”

If Howard's voice sounds a little shaky, no one mentions anything. Tony rubs the sleep from his eyes, but it doesn’t serve to help him wake up.

He’s undeniably excited to see his mom again. He wants nothing more than to fall asleep in her arms and wake up knowing that he’s safe. He wants to sit with Jarvis and Ana and talk about school. He wants to go down into the workshop, knowing that his father is going to be there and to learn something new.

He wants things to go back to normal.

But he’s not sure that’s even an option anymore.

“Here we are.”

Happy climbs from the front seat, which is the first time Tony even realises the man is with them. The door is opened, and Tony climbs out with the help of his father. He wraps his small arms around Happy’s middle. Heavy hands rest between Tony’s shoulder blades.

“Go see your mother. I’ll be around for dinner,” Happy promises.

Turning, Tony realises that the entire Stark Manor staff have come out to welcome him home. From the gated entrance all the way up to the front doors. At the head, with Ana and Jarvis on either side, is Maria Stark.

Tony begins to scramble, but his father lifts him, rather than letting him run. Feeling rather like he’s eight years old, Tony has a complaint lodged in his chest, unable to work its way past the lump in his throat.

Howard carries Tony forward with Happy and Rhodey following close behind. Maria doesn’t move. She stands, still as a statue, pale as a cloud on a warm day. To some, this may make her appear cold and disinterested, but Tony knows better. Tony knows that she’s rooted to the spot with uncertainty. Disbelief.

The moment Tony is within arm’s reach, he leans away from his father. Set on unsteady feet, Tony throws himself at his mother. For a pointed second, she is frozen. But she melts, and her arms are strong and unyielding as she holds him to her.

“Oh, bambino,” she sobs into his hair. “I missed you so.”

Howard joins them both in the embrace, one hand on Tony’s shoulder and the other arm across Maria’s waist.

Tony is released only to be immediately pulled into Ana’s breast

Tony feels safe for the first time since his kidnapping. With his parents by his side, his best friend and his beloved butler close by. He’s finally with his family again.

~

Tony isn’t let out of his parent's sights for the month that follows.

At first, Tony would be hard-pressed to say that he _wanted_ to be further than a foot from his parents. Knowing that he’s safe where he is, knowing that his parents are _right there_ settles him in a way nothing else will.

At least, for the first week, Tony feels like this. After that, Tony begins to feel crowded.

“Maria, he’s spent three months in a cave with one person. He probably isn’t used to so many people being around,” Tony hears one evening long after he was put to bed. “He needs time.”

For a few days, Tony feels less like he’s packed into the house like a sardine, and more like he can breathe again.

That is until Howard pulls him into the office after breakfast one day.

“Anthony, I think it’s time we talk.”

“It’s nine in the morning. I feel like ‘talking time’ is later in the evening.”

“We can wait until them. I’m not here to force you into saying anything. I just want you to know that I _am_ here if you want to talk. I am, and always will be.”

Squirming in the chair, Tony felt as though he was lying to his father. He hates that. He certainly never wants to dishonest.

“I can tell that you’re not ready right now, and that’s fine, Tony. It really is. Just know that there is no limit. You can talk to me tomorrow, next week, or twenty years from now.”

Tony truly hopes that it doesn’t take twenty years.

The next week goes slowly. Tony is still shocked every time he wakes up, and once the nightmares have subsided, Tony will lay, staring at the ceiling. He’ll pinch himself.

“I’m home, I’m home, I’m home.”

On the first day of the third week back, Tony goes to his fathers’ workshop at seven in the evening.

“I want to try and talk.”

And Tony does. It takes a long time. Howard, Tony knows, is trying his hardest to remain impassive. Still, the tightening around his eyes and dipping of the corners of his mouth gives him away.

“Don’t be sad,” Tony begs.

“I’m not sure there’s much I can do about that. My son was taken from me and hurt. I’m not sure I can think of another way to respond.”

There’s not very much Tony can say in response. Howard takes a moment, and Tony lets him do it in uninterrupted silence.

“Is there anything else?”

“Not that I’m ready to talk about.”

Howard steps around the dark wood desk and pulls Tony into his arms. When Tony is released, Howard almost has to bend at the waist to look Tony in the eye.

“I promise you, son, we will find the people who did this, and they will reap the consequences.”

“Who… but I blew them… I killed… there isn’t—”

“You said they had you in front of a camera? That means a video was sent to someone.”

For a second, Tony’s mind goes completely blank. When it reboots, he has to blink away images of being sat on a chair before a small, blinking red light while people around him talk in languages he doesn’t understand.

“It wasn’t ransom?” Tony asks.

“No. We never saw it, which means it was sent to someone else. Now, listen to me. We’re not to speak of this with _anyone,_ do you understand? The more people know, the less likely we are to find the culprit. Be wary of everyone, OK?”

There’s another lump in his throat, and Tony struggles to swallow it. His hands, shaking, are shoved into his pocket to hide them from his dad. Howard, however, is attentive. He gives Tony another tight hug.

“Let’s try to get some sleep, OK?”

“I’m not sure that’s possible.”

Tony does not want to spend another night trapped in his own mind, only to wake up screaming mere hours later. He doesn’t want to have to deepen the bags under his parents or the Jarvis’ eyes. Tony’s more exhausted now than ever, even during his time in the cave. And worse, he’s exhausting everyone else too.

He’s been in therapy since he got home, though he tried to explain to his dad that he didn’t need it.

“Therapy was supposed to help,” Tony grumbles as they head towards his bedroom. “But it’s stupid. I don’t even need it.”

“Son, there’s no shame in getting help,” Howard says as they enter the room. “Everyone suffers from trauma, and you need to work through it at your own pace. I bet even Captain America would need help every now and then. The Howling Commando’s were not just in the fight together, you know. They helped each other through their problems. They talked to each other because it helped.”

Tony can’t deny that talking helps. Talking to his father helped. However, talking to the therapist has simply left Tony feeling an angry, confusing mixture of empty and full.

“I don’t like going,” Tony says, finally.

“Maybe we should try another therapist,” Howard muses as he pulls the covers back on Tony’s bed.

Tony doesn’t want to say anything more. He doesn’t want the therapist to lose their job since it’s not her fault that he’s not responding well to it. They tried everything. They kept the sessions inside the manor so that Tony felt safer. They tried starting slow, they tried not talking about the capture, they tried _everything._

Nothing worked.

After two weeks of Tony growing more and more tired, unable to concentrate on anything, the therapist had prescribed him with some sleeping pills.

That had lasted less than a week.

For two, blissful nights, Tony slept ten hours uninterrupted. He was lured into a false sense of security and assumed that things were getting better. That was until Tony couldn’t wake up from a nightmare that seemed to go on for years.

It took Tony a day to stop shaking.

He didn’t take the pills again.

So, Tony tried to fix things himself. He worked every minute of the day, trying to tire himself beyond the ability to dream, but that went wrong too. He was building in the lab when he fell asleep against the desk.

He had a night terror. When he woke up, he found that he’d cut his arm.

He was banned from the lab for a week, and his mother tearfully begged him not to end his life. Tony couldn’t seem to convince her that it wasn’t his intention at all, but it didn’t matter.

“Maybe,” his father speculates as he pulls the duvet up to Tony’s neck, “maybe what we need is closure. End this once and for all. When we discover who it was, we can put this horror behind us, and you can finally sleep properly.”

Tony hears the terrible promise beneath his words, and oddly, it warms Tony’s heart.

Tony knows that his father can be hard on him sometimes. Maybe more-so than other parents, but Tony has business to inherit and a genius intellect to nurture. He can’t make the same mistakes that other people his age make. He can’t falter, because there is more riding on him than other people. The pressure is great, but Tony gets by because the support is greater.

Howard, despite how it might seem to some, is exceptionally gentle. He praises Tony on everything that he does. Howard is careful to always show that mistakes don’t define who people are. He’s always said Tony is capable of great things, even if he needs patience to achieve them.

“You can sleep in our room tonight if you want?”

“I’m fine here.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

He has to be. He can’t keep his parents up more than he already has. They’ve been offering him a place in their room since he returned. He’s taken them up on it once, and it didn’t go well. He’d woken up screaming and thus thrown his parents into a fit of fear. Tony won’t do that to them again.

“OK. Well, if you need anything—”

“I know.”

“Love you, Tony.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

Howard leaves, and a second later, Jarvis comes in with a warm glass of milk. He sits on the edge of Tony’s bed. The bag under his eyes is so prominent that Tony can’t really see anything else on the man's face. Guilt pools in his stomach like mercury.

“Don’t you dare,” Jarvis scolds, as if reading Tony’s mind. “We’re here for you by choice, and if that means we have a few hours less sleep than normal, then it’s a sacrifice we’re willing to make.”

Tony doesn’t respond. He simply takes the offered milk, warm to the touch, and slides back down in the bed when he’s finished drinking.

“Sweet dreams, Anthony,” Jarvis whispers as he runs a hand through his hair. “Remember, we love you.”

Heart racing hard, breathing coming out in painful gasps, Tony is thrown out of bed in a surge of panic. On his hands and knees, Tony shakes and tears spill down his cheeks.

For a moment, Tony waits for someone to come get him like they’ve done every other time he’s felt like this. When he doesn’t hear the thumping of feet heading his way, he realises that this time, he hadn’t cried out. His shoulders, which he realises suddenly, are touching his ears, slump and he leans his back against the bed.

Excellent.

They need a full night’s sleep. Tony hates that he’s the reason they’re not getting it.

Tony twists the soft fabric of his Pyjama shirt around his fingers and uses it to wipe away sweat the trickles down his face. It makes him cringe, like all of his cells shrivelling up. He can’t quite stand the feeling of water on his face just yet.

There has to be a way to end this once and for all. If he spends another month waking up from nightmares, Tony is going to lose his mind and welcome it. Anything is better than consciously suffering every day.

Unless he can figure out a way to fix it, that’s precisely what is going to happen.

But, it’s not his only option, he realises with a jolt that spikes through his body, from his toes to his brain. He jumps to his feet, feeling like he’s having a lightbulb moment.

What was it that his father had said?

If they find a way to figure out who did it, Tony won’t be able to rest.

Well, Tony hasn’t been called a genius his whole life for nothing.

He may be a child, but he’s proven more than once that he’s able to do as much – if not more – than most adults. If he can build a crappy suit in a dirty cave with little to no supplies, he can definitely do better at home. Infinitely better.

He doesn’t have to wait for them to come across a lead that might bring Tony’s suffering to an end. He can do it himself. He can find whoever got the ransom note.

All he needs is two things.

An AI assistant and a bad-ass suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole 'one-chapter-a-day' idea has gone quickly out the window. Sorry about that.
> 
> I am working on it at all times, I'm just sooooo busy rn.
> 
> From,
> 
> WP


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony forgoes trying to sleep to get some work done.

_Chapter Six_

Tony is aware enough to know that he’s running on coffee and frantic energy alone. He just can’t feel it. All Tony can feel is the motivation, _the drive,_ to keep going, no matter what. He’s delving deeper into the project than he’s ever been in anything, and it electric. He’s alive.

The heavy exhaustion that has slowed down his every move is nowhere to be seen. The headaches from lack of sleep, the darkened edges of his thoughts, the gnawing guilt in his stomach; all gone.

All that’s left is what is directly in front of him. The schematics of the suit and the outline of an A.I.

There’s not a single reason that Tony can think of that would bring him out of his work-oriented focus.

“Tony?”

Except maybe that.

“Dad. Hi.”

With a few clicks, Tony has his work saved and replaced with an old science fair project.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking to improve the project I did in sixth grade.”

Howard walks into the lab and looks over Tony’s shoulder, eyes roaming over the notes and suggested revisions.

“It looks good,” Howard nods his approval. “I’m guessing you didn’t manage to sleep?”

Tony shakes his head, unable to muster the usual mournfulness. He’s too wired to try and even pretend he’s disappointed.

“I see that you’re really into this, so I’ll let you off. I’ll have Jarvis bring you something to eat soon, OK? If you need me, I’ll be upstairs.”

Relief at the near-miss mentally winds him, and he’s shocked when his father's arms wrap tightly around him. He recovers though, and returns to gesture, briefly allowing himself to bury his face in his father’s sweater.

He watches as his father leaves, and the moment the doors close, Tony turns back to the desk and brings up his work. For now, while he considers the design and functions of the suit, he drives his attention solely towards the A.I.

While he works his way through the base code, Tony wonders what he could call it. He can’t have this magnificent creation go nameless. It’s going to be as close to a human as a technological creation can be. It has to have a name.

Tony types down J.A.R.V.I.S. first. He can figure out what he wants it to mean later on, but for now, he wants to see if it’s right. He tries H.O.W.A.R.D. next, and then M.A.R.I.A. after that.

What he settles on, however, is Y.I.N.S.E.N.

A fitting tribute to the man who saved Tony’s life.

With the name set in stone – or code – Tony begins to explore his options. There are endless opportunities for what this computer program could do. He’s buzzing with ideas, and he’s barely able to get one down on paper before another one takes its place.

Y.I.S.E.N. slowly starts to take shape. He’s going to program it to be able to access all the camera’s in the building and their built-in speakers. This will allow it to be omnipresent. It will be able to recognise people, and search databases for information about them, ready for Tony to access on a whim. He can program it to understand words, rather than typed text. Only, he can make it far more precise than the current, generic A.I. in all Stark Phone models. He will program it to learn so that after Tony has gone through the initial stages of setting it up, it can make its own progress.

It will be perfect because it will continuously be improving.

It will take a while to configure the rest of the coding, and Tony still has a lot to learn about building an entire program, especially one of this magnitude, alone. He needs to do some studying.

All in all, the A.I. is relatively straight forward.

The suit, on the other hand, is posing something of a challenge. Mentally.

Every time Tony makes a new addition, he has to step back to stave off an episode of panic. His mind can’t seem to _stop_ going back on itself, flashing images of his torture. He’s thankful when Jarvis comes down with a breakfast sandwich a few hours later. It breaks the cycle Tony is refusing to even try and control.

Jarvis didn’t stick around for long. Long enough to ensure that Tony had started to eat and to ruffle his hair fondly. He leaves Tony in peace soon after, a few words of caution offered before the doors close.

“Don’t overwork yourself.”

“I won’t, Jarv. I promise!”

He’ll likely only have a few hours in the lab before his parents or Jarvis come to drag him out. He’s got to work fast and hard to get this figured out. The sooner he finishes, the sooner he can sleep. The sooner he can sleep, the sooner things go back to normal. If not for him, then at least for his family.

~

Tony gets in six hours of workshop time in total before his mother comes down and drags him upstairs. Maria is gentle about it, taking his course hand in her own soft one, and guiding him from the room and upstairs. Typically, Tony would argue and beg for more time, but the way his mother looks at him when he opens his mouth leaves no room for conversation. His jaw snaps shut, and he goes without a word of process.

When they get into the dining room, Tony is sat down at the table, and his father smiles at him fondly.

“You look a little out of sorts there, Tony,” Howard notes. “Need some time to recalibrate?”

Tony nods. His Dad understands that it is sometimes difficult to jump from being in the workshop to being around people. His brain needs to catch up with itself before he even attempts a decent conversation.

Unfortunately, the wind-down time is short.

“Tony, my boy!”

Tony jumps in his seat and turns around to watch Uncle Obie walking towards the table.

Obie’s smile is strained, Tony notices, and the pockets under his eyes where he stores his sleepless nights is deeper and darker than ever before. Howard stands to welcome him, clapping his shoulder while shaking his hand.

“So good to see you,” Obie continues, turning back to Tony and patting his cheek. “We were all sick with worry.”

Tony must have heard those same words thousands of times over because he simply finds them empty of sentiment now.

“Didn’t mean to make you sick, Obie.”

“Don’t worry, my boy. You’re back now, and I can keep an eye on you. No need to fret.”

Obie pulls out the chair between Tony and Howard and sits down. He accepts a glass of scotch from Jarvis without so much as a thank you and then dismisses Jarvis as though he were some kind of common house pet.

It sets Tony’s teeth on edge.

Howard has always made a point to treat the house staff as friends, almost family, and for Obadiah to brush that away leaves a nasty taste in the back of Tony’s mouth.

It’s not as though it’s a new concept. Tony has always known that Obie runs a different household to Howard. Tony is more than aware that the Stane Manor is operated on fear, and Stane has never bothered to learn anybody’s name.

Tony has never liked this about Obie, but it’s never elicited an angry reaction before.

 _It’s because you’re sleep-deprived,_ Tony assures himself.

“I can’t put into words how relieved I was when I heard you were safely recovered,” Obie says, putting a hand on Tony’s shoulder and squeezing just of shy of painful. “Any news on who set it up?”

“None,” Howard replies mournfully. “But rest assured we will find out.”

Tony’s tiredness must be really messing with his head because Obie looked both relieved and annoyed at Howard's proclamation.

“And you came back in one piece,” he continues. “But… what is this?”

Before Tony can react, Obie is popping the buttons on his shirt and staring in hungry awe at the miniature arc reactor nestled in Tony’s chest. He reaches out and taps it with a knuckle, which sends Tony into panic mode. He immediately falls backwards out of the chair to try and get as far away from the invasive hands as possible.

The carpet burns against her elbows, and his body pulsates with the rapid beat of his heart.

Howard is out of his chair and kneeling at Tony’s side.

Obie apologises, but he doesn’t look nearly as sorry as he’s trying to sound. Again, Tony is thrown by the strangely suspicious feelings he’s having towards his beloved Uncle. Still, he blames it on the tiredness.

Tony is staring at Obie, trying to work out his feelings. He jumps when there’s a sudden pressure on his back

“Are you OK, Tony?” Howard asks, his hand staying on Tony’s back.

The effects are instantaneous. Where before Tony felt like his mind was floundering, he now feels like he has both feet on the ground. Everything slows back to normal. The hammering of his heart stops hurting the reactor. His insides don’t feel like they’re trying to escape his body. His vision clears.

He feels grounded.

And warm.

He turns his face away from Obie to look up at his Dad.

“I don’t… no one but you can touch it.”

“I’m sorry, Tony. I forget myself for a moment there. I understand,” Obie assures.

Tony glances towards him, confused, and then looks back up at his Dad. Howard encourages him to go back to the table, helping him button up his shirt and hiding the arc reactor. Once the shirt it closed again, his father smooths out the wrinkles and returns to his own chair.

“Imagine what this technology will do for Stark Industries. We could revolutionise a new field. Think of the power we can put into weaponry. Think of the stock prices.”

“No.”

Obie looks startled, and there’s a flash of anger in his eyes as he cocks his head to the side. His gaze softens, but the eyes tell a different story. He looks livid.

“What on earth do you mean?” Obie questions.

“I won’t… I refuse to have anything to do with building weapons.”

Now his Dad looks as stunned as Obie does, but where Obie is growing frustrated, his Dad grimaces in sympathy.

“I understand,” Howard says. “If you don’t want to, I won’t force you.”

“Oh, of course, Anthony. If you’d rather step back from that part of the business, that’s fine. I’m sure your talents can be put to use elsewhere,” Obie agrees, but there’s still something hidden in his face that suggests he thinks otherwise. “You just need to share the information about the miniature reactor.”

“No.”

Obie slams his fist down on the table, and Tony cries out in shock and jumps.

“You won’t even share what knowledge you have for the betterment of your family’s business?”

“No.” Tony stands up and stares deep into Obie’s eyes. “I won’t. Because I don’t want to be feed into the terror and destruction wrought by the very thing our family makes. I know that it’s to protect the American people, but _our_ weapons were in the hands of the terrorists who took me. That’s not what we stand for. And I won’t be a part of it.”

Obie’s eyes burn with fury, but Howard reaches over to put a comforting hand around Tony’s wrist.

“We have to respect Tony’s choice, Obadiah. He’s still young, and he’ll be the future one day. If he doesn’t want that future to be in weapons, then that’s something we can discuss later on. For now, he needs to heal and focus on his studies.”

Tony hears the undertone of ‘we will talk about this in more depth at a later date’ in his Dad’s little speech, and he’s not surprised. His father is incredibly supportive of most of the things Tony does, but refusing to carry on the family business is going to carry consequences like no other. But that’s a way off from now. He has time to prepare his defence.

And in the meantime, he can try to figure out precisely what is going on with Obadiah Stane.

Something is off.

~

Later that night, after Obie has left and Howard and Maria have retired to bed, Tony sneaks back into the lab.

Within the first three hours, Tony has sent the limbs of the suit for fabrication. That’s basically half of the work done and in record time no less. Even by his own standards, that’s pretty smart.

The moment the hands and feet are finished, Tony is going to get to start the real fun. Testing the flight capabilities.

He’s sure that, had the situation not been so dire, flying the suit would have been exhilarating. Now he has a chance to genuinely enjoy it.

These past few days have been the most productive.

Not only has he managed to get a large part of the suit finished, but he’s also completed the base coding down for the A.I.’s functions. With its data-mining capabilities, Tony sets it loose into the Stark Networks.

Though it pains him to consider it, there are very few people who knew Tony was going to Afghanistan. More than half of those people work for S.I. Unfortunately, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that maybe it was someone close that sold him out.

While Y.I.N.S.E.N searches, Tony dons the boots and gloves and goes to stand in the middle of the room.

“Start recording,” he says softly to the camera set up before him. “Power up to one per cent.”

The boots and gloves hum as they glow blue. So far so good, but Tony is barely an inch from the ground.

“Power up to ten per cent.”

In a rush of air, and maybe a silent scream (there’s no one there to confirm or deny this), Tony is thrown into the ceiling. He falls back down with an ‘oomf’.

“Crap,” he mutters. “Maybe a little less power.”

He rolls over and grimaces when he sees the dent in the ceiling. White dust sprinkles over him like snow.

“Let’s try this again,” he says, pushing himself back up.

With a quick stretch and a few prodding fingers, Tony diagnoses himself as fine. No notable pain, no broken bones, just a few bruises. He’ll probably hurt later, but for now, the excitement is overwhelming all of his other senses.

“Right then. Power up to five per cent.”

It’s hard to keep balance, and Tony throws out his arms in an attempt to keep his body upright. He’s a few inches from the ground.

“Six per cent.”

Knee’s bent and back straight, Tony feels like he’s in much more control now.

“Seven per cent.”

He rises higher from the ground, maintaining his equilibrium as he goes.

He was right.

This feels _amazing._

“Perfect.”

The boots clunk as they touch back down to the ground. DUM-E whirs excitedly around Tony, nipping at his clothes.

“Calm down, Dum. We can’t let this distract us. We’ve still got a long way to go.”

DUM-E responds as he always does. With a click of his hand and a quick run-around of the lab.

The rest of the morning goes quietly.

Tony helps DUM-E work on the suit while periodically checking on Y.I.N.S.E.N.’s progress. He programmes codes into the chips ready to be installed into the torso of the suit and makes notes for ways he can improve the A.I.

He’s making real progress.

How has he never done this before?

“Maybe sleep is over-rated?” Tony wonders aloud.

Immediately, there’s a ping. Instinctively, Tony turns to the doors, but there’s no one there.

That’s when he realises that it was his computer. A web-page has been opened.

“What’s this? “Why sleepless nights harm your health’,” Tony reads. “Yin, did you find this?”

There’s no response, but Tony is certain. Yinsen not only _heard_ but also _understood_ what Tony said.

As six approaches, Tony begins to pack up. He hides the suit in the closet and locks the computer. He climbs into bed, smiling.

 _Tonight_ , Tony decides, _I’m taking the suit on a test-run around the city._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! I'm slowly getting back into the groove of things!


	7. Chapter 7

The night before, Tony had been caught cringing in pain after Ana placed a hand on his shoulder. Jarvis immediately went into panic mode, alerted his parents, and they were set on calling an ambulance.  
“It’s just a bruise,” Tony had promised.  
Maria hadn’t cared for his excuses. She’d taken his hand, picked up a salve from the first aid box, and then guided him to his room. She waited as he showered and prepared for bed, then she gently covered his bruises in a salve.  
“Your father used to be the exact same,” Maria explained fondly.  
“He did?”  
“Well, he still does.” Maria pulls the duvet up to cover Tony once she’s finished. “When we were first together, I had to learn to stitch wounds.”  
Her tinkling laugh fills the room, and she looks down at Tony, her eyes glimmering with her smile.  
“You’re just like your father,” she whispers. “For better or worse.”  
With a kiss on his forehead, Maria whispers that she loves him and then turns out the lights and leaves.  
Tony had laid there for a while until eventually, sleep took him under, and he had to fight for wakefulness.  
Tony came to, gasping and soaked in sweat. The blue cotton of his pillow tastes like laundry detergent, and it absorbs his screams. His parents sleep on. In fact, if Tony’s keen ears are anything to go by, the entire house is asleep, save for himself.  
“Perfect,” he whispers, smiling to himself despite the hammering in his chest.  
It’s gotten easier to keep his footsteps light and his presence unnoticeable as he treks through the house and down to his workshop. It’s an expansive place, enough so that he’s been able to keep several projects on the go at once without them touching. His father had gone all it. Best birthday present he’d ever received. Maria was less than impressed.  
The lights spring up without any word, and his heart swells just a little at how intuitive Y.I.N.S.E.N. is becoming.  
“Thanks, Yin,” Tony whispers.  
The shop, even when being filled to the brim with music, is the perfect place for Tony to think. He has the opportunity to unlatch from the day-to-day stressors. He doesn’t need to think about the kids at school or the future that seems to grow more uncertain with every day. He doesn’t need to agonise over lying to his parents or the Jarvis’. He just gets to create.  
Though come to think of it, maybe it isn’t the sanctuary for everyone that it is for him.  
“I left you here all by yourself,” Tony mumbles, biting his lip. “I’m sorry.”  
“No apologies needed, Young Anthony.”  
“Call me Tony!”  
“Negative.”  
Tony frowns, wondering where his coding went wrong, and then shrugs. If the worst Y.I.N.S.E.N. is going to do is ignore his preferred name, Tony figures he could have done a lot worse.  
“Fine. Whatever. Let’s figure out adding you to my bedroom, so you don’t need to be so alone.”  
“My sub-routines do not include ‘alone’. I am incapable of running such a process.”  
With a roll of his eyes, a proud smile and a skip in his tired steps, Tony moves towards the suit. It’s tall, around six feet, and Tony finds himself looking up at it. The face looks angry.  
“Should I change the mask?” Tony wonders aloud.  
“Change to what?”  
“I dunno.” Tony shrugs listlessly. “A smiley face.”  
Y.I.N.S.E.N. is silent, leaving Tony pulling a face and wondering if maybe that wasn’t the best idea after all.  
Intimidating as the suit may be, Tony reminds himself that, empty, the suit is just an outfit. Nothing scary about clothes that no one is wearing. Especially one that Tony sewed with his own hands. The gold glints in the overhead lab lights and the red reminds Tony of blood.  
“Maybe the colour scheme wasn’t the best idea,” Tony says.  
“May I inquire into your thoughts?” Yin asks.  
“Um. I just think it looks a bit mean. A little bit like blood. You know?”  
“Your purpose for the suit was to ‘take out bad guys’. According to the research I have just conducted, the aesthetics of the suit will not hinder the work. However, it may aid.”  
“So it depends on what I want the bad guys to feel. And it doesn’t matter if they feel bad, does it.”  
The statement requires no answer. Instead, Tony pushes his shoulders back. He’s not scared of the suit, and he certainly doesn’t care if the bad guys are. They deserve to be scared of the suit.  
“Ok, Yin. Let’s get ready to take this thing on an adventure.”  
Despite the very real weight of sheer responsibility that comes with handling a weapon, Tony’s cells buzz with excitement.  
“Yin, we good to go.”  
“General knowledge, which I have acquired, suggests that one must test before they use.”  
“I guess. But that’s a waste of time. What’s the deal? Are we good to go?”  
There’s a brief pause, and Tony wonders if there’s a delay in the systems or whether Yin is just making a point.  
“Sever upload to H.U.D. complete. Power at 100%. Weather forecast: Clear with a 10% chance of precipitation between six and seven am. Temperature at 40 degrees. Heating suit for maximum comfort.”  
Y.I.N.S.E.N. rattles through the start-up protocols as Tony does some stretches. The suit is going to be heavy and difficult to operate. It’ll be great from his muscles and cardio, but there’s no sense in making things more complicated than they need to be. A quick stretch might be the difference between waking up in pain tomorrow and waking up not in pain.  
“Sound ideal,” Tony quips once Yin has finished. “Prep the suit.”  
The order is meant for DUM-E, who is sulking at the edge of Tony’s vision. Once the bot hears the words, he begins trumbling towards Tony, beeping happily.  
In all honestly, there is no ‘prep’ to be done. All Tony needs to do now is step into the suit and take off. Unfortunately, DUM-E is bored and to let that boredom fester would be actively inviting disaster. DUM-E may not be very good at what he was built to do, but he is an expert in making a mess of things when he’s bored.  
“Thanks, DUM-E.”  
The daft ‘bot circles to suit, beeping and clicking. After three rounds, he spins on his tracks twice and then nods his claw.  
“Good boy.”  
Tony pets his cold metal arm and then watches with awe as the suit opens up. He takes a second to take a breath. Stepping into that suit means he’s taking a responsibility that he needs to be sure he’s ready of.  
But if Tony doesn’t do everything he can to bring the Ten Rings down and find the mole in the company, there’s no saying whether it’ll happen again. It’s safer to assume that it will, though. So, Tony needs to protect who he can. He has the means. He has the capability. Tony knows he’s fortunate to have been born in the situation he is in. Wealthy, smart, loved. He’s got so much. It’s only right that he gives back. And if he’s learned anything about privilege, it’s that he has the means to help.  
Anthony Stark steps into the suit for the first time.  
The power of each pound of solid titanium hums. As it closes, encasing Tony in hundreds of pounds of metal and Kevlar, he sucks in another lungful of air. The area around his arc reactor twinges, but it's easy to ignore in light of his surging adrenaline. It spikes his blood and buzzes through his body.  
“Power thrusters to one per cent, Yin.”  
Vibrations pour into his boots, rattling Tony like rice on a speaker.  
“Note: make interior snugger.”  
The boots power up. The initiation is slow.  
“Note: Quicker actions.”  
Tony only lifts a few centimetres off the ground, so he asks for two per cent, then three and then four.  
“Perfect,” Tony grins. “Let’s take this bad boy for a spin!”  
“My safety protocols suggest further tests.”  
“I only installed those for normal projects,” Tony says with a huff. “This is different.”  
“Arguably, Young Anthony—”  
“Tony!”  
“—this would be a time when such protocols would be most pertinent.”  
“Whatever, Yin. You’re starting to sound like a nanny. Open the garage door.”  
“Yes, Master Anthony.”  
Whilst Tony rolls his eyes, the doors to the garage creak open. They lead out, up from the basement to the tunnel that snakes out onto a trail through the wooded acre behind their mansion.  
Shakily, Tony directs the suit up the dark tunnel. With no real certainty in how to control the direction, and with the fear of his parents’ waking up to the sound of banging, Tony has to take it slow. For now.  
At the end of the tunnel, starlight glows through the trees that intertwine above Tony’s head. The pathway is clear, only used randomly throughout the year, and Tony’s only fear is accidentally setting fire to the trees.  
At the end of the pathway, there is an opening. Tony twists his body backwards, and he shoots upwards, into the sky and away from the world below.  
“Heart rate – 180.”  
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Tony snarks, hysteria growing. “Don’t be absurd, Yin. Why would my heart rate pick up? It’s not as if flying in a suit would make me a little anxious?”  
“Judging by your heart rate, I believe you are, in fact, anxious.”  
“Yeah, I know. I was—” Tony frowns. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.”  
The buildings are so far below him now that they look like pinpricks. Almost as though there are stars both above and below. Though Tony’s stomach is doing its damned best to crawl out of his throat, he still cheers until he’s breathless.  
“This is amazing!”  
Tony strains through the suit to touch the stars. His fingers stretch. And then ice begins to form.  
“Young Anthony, ice appears to be building on the exterior of the suit. Further infiltration will—”  
“Yin?”  
“—Will—”  
“YIN!”  
The computerised voice of his A.I. starts to stutter, and Tony realises he’s in trouble when the power in his boots does the same. Slowly, the H.U.D. begins to blink and then, within a second, Tony is falling out of the sky.  
A scream tears from his throat as panic claws at his stomach. The ground, still so very far away, is coming towards him very quickly.  
“Reboot! Reboot!”  
“Re-e-e-bo-oooo-oo-t—ing”  
“Take less time!” Tony screams.  
The river below is getting closer. Imminent death is inescapable. Maybe it’s time, Tony figures, to call his parents and tell them he—  
“Rebooting complete.”  
With a body shaking boom, the boots power-up, and Tony is rocketing back up into the air, away from the end of his life and towards complete and utter relief.  
“Oh my god, Yin, I almost died.”  
“Making Note: Counteract atmospheric icing.”  
“Yeah,” Tony gasps. “Good note.”  
The city sprawling below is alive despite the late night. Cars wander through streets, people stumble home and laughter from parties floats on the air. Tony might hate a lot of things about New York, but no one was joking when they called it the city that never sleeps.  
“Let’s head home, Yin. I have to build another suit. And some storage, I guess. How many suits do you think it will take to get it perfect?”  
“According to the internet, ‘third times the charm’, ‘third time lucky’ and ‘third time pays for all’. I suspect, Young Anthony, that the third suit you make, if the literature is correct, will be ‘perfect’.”  
Tony laughs the rest of the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... tad late, eh?
> 
> Sorry about that.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is taking things into his own gauntlet.s

Tony begins working in the lab immediately after he returns. He treats himself to a victory lap of sorts, flying around Manhattan before settling out of sight and heading back home. The adrenaline flooding his veins still soars, and even if he wanted to sleep, he knows that there’s no chance.

“Ok, Yin. Let’s have a look at this icing problem,” Tony says.

The worktable is scattered with scrap metal and wires, but Tony pushes it all aside and brings up a hologram.

“Run a simulation on gold-titanium alloy, Do 75, 25.” Tony orders.

The holo-screen light up with a picture of the suit. The cold gun-metal grey glows for a moment, and then the test begins to run.

“Run it at the same altitude we were at earlier.”

Tony settles back, sipping at a can of coke (which Jarvis would likely tell him off for, considering it’s so early), as he watches the simulation run. His mouth twists to the side as ice still invades the cracks and the suit stutters and falls.

“How about 90, 10?”

Again, the suit rises through the virtual sky and slowly, ice crackles along the cold metal. It’s minor though. Tony asks for the suit to rise higher and higher. With each meter, the ice spreads further.

“Ok. We’re close. Now, try 95.5% titanium with a 4.5% gold plating.”

The video plays, and Tony feels a proud smile curling at his lips. He yawns, his jaw clicking with the effort, and then nods.

“Shut it down, Yin, and start the fabrication process.”

The workshop snaps into darkness. Tony throws the can into the recycling and tiptoes upstairs and into his room. The house is silent, so silent that Tony can hear the faint hum of electricity that winds itself through the walls.

For a second, Tony stops moving. He just stills.

Despite everyone being asleep, and even after everything they’ve been through in the past few months, Tony realises he’s never felt safer. He has the people who love him the most in world close by, and he trusts them with him life.

~

Tony leaves his room three hours and five chapters of his book later. Jarvis is in the lounge, delegating tasks to the household staff, and Ana is in the kitchen whipping up breakfast. Tony hangs around for a little while, but when his offers of help are politely declined, Tony goes off in search of his parents.

“—in the company would do something like that to my son, but Maria, I can’t find any other way that it could have happened. Whoever it is, they’ve covered their tracks and I’m scared.”

“Howard Stark, if there’s anything I know about the enigma I married, it’s that you don’t give up so easily. No matter how long it takes, you’re going to fix this. I have absolute faith in you.”

“I don’t deserve you Maria.”

“You do. I promise that you do.”

Tony leaves before he hears them start to kiss too intently. He heads back downstairs and sits in the lounge, face in a book but mind fixed firmly on repeat.

If Howard thinks someone in Stark Industries is the culprit for Tony’s kidnapping, then it’s safe to assume there’s a traitor in their ranks. The thought leaves Tony’s skin prickling with nerves, but fear isn’t going to solve any of their problems.

It’s one thing coming to the conclusion on his own, but another thing entirely for it to be validated by his father. If Howard says someone in the company is a traitor, then there is.

Tossing the book onto the chair, Tony jumps up and races to the workshop with Ana’s call of ‘breakfast in fifteen’ following him.

His socked feet skid on the floor and he calls out to the room.

“Yin, ramp up the search for any unusual activities in the Stark Industries server. Good deeper than just the board. If anyone is going under the books, there’s a very real chance it’s crossed over my father’s networks. And start a worldwide search for any Ten Rings activity. If this is bigger than just a terrorist attack, then we can assume they’re active somewhere, right?”

“Indeed.”

“And set a timer for thirteen minutes. If I’m late for breakfast, Ana will throttle me.”

A visual timer pops up on the holoscreens closest to Tony as he starts to wire together a circuit board that will wirelessly connect with Yin’s servers.

“This way, you can be everywhere I go.”

“You need to account for distance.”

“Oh gosh, of course!” Tony slaps his forehead. “I wonder if I can get Dad to let me use their satellite to keep a permanent connection with you?”

Tony is ruminating on how he would ask such a question when the timer chimes. He’s at the kitchen table, a little breathless, before the food is even set down.

“You were almost late,” Ana chides.

“ _Almost_ being the operative word,” Tony notes with a cheeky smile.

“Watch that mouth of yours, or it’ll be salty porridge for a week.”

“Please try to not upset Mrs. Jarvis,” Howard says. “She’s the best cook this house has ever seen, and you know how much I love her roast.”

“Howard, as I live and breathe, are you trying to flatter me out of punishing your son?”

Howards responding smile is a mirror of Tony’s. Ana rolls her eyes with a fond smile and sits down on Maria’s left.

“Dad, you know how every resource is just a step towards betterment?”

Howard raises an eyebrow.

“What do you want, Tony?”

“To use the satellites for a project I’m working on.”

“Yes.”

“But—wait. Yes?”

“Yes. I don’t see why not. We’ve got a dozen going unused at the top of Stark Industries in California. They were meant for the Arc Reactor, but since that project never got off the ground, they’re, as the kids say, free real estate.”

Tony had been completely prepared to argue his case, to beg even, but Howards flippant offering throws Tony for a loop.

“Seriously?”

“Super seriously. I trust you, Tony. Besides, whatever you’re using it for is probably very interesting. I look forward to hearing about it.”

It’s only the stern look of Ana that keeps Tony fixed to the kitchen table to finish his food.

***

“What do you have for me, Yin?” Tony whispers from his bed.

Howard and Maria had gone to bed early, assured that Tony’s workshop binge had left him exhausted. He’d been ‘asleep’ for forty minutes before he felt comfortable sitting up again.

“The satellite connection has allowed me access to world-wide databases. Currently, the US air force is watching an incident unfolding in Gulmira.”

Tony bites his wobbling lip when he realises why that name sounds familiar.

“How long until we can get there?”

“Mapping course now. Three hours at full speed.”

“Is the new suit fully operational?”

“Yes, Young Anthony.”

“Please,” Tony implores as he slides his feet into slippers. “Call me ‘Tony’.”

Tony picks up a pair of lightweight sneakers from his dresser and creeps out of his room and into the workshop, but not before arranging his bed so it looked like he hadn’t left.

“OK, let’s get set for Gulmira, Yin. I’ll grab some smoothies and water for the ride.”

“Make sure you use the bathroom first,” Yin supplies.

“Right. Sure.”

In less then twenty minutes, Tony is swallowing down the trepidation he feels at the thought of travelling across the world and stepping into a suit.

“Ok, Yin. We have six hours. Let’s get to Gulmira and back before mum and dad wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at that, it's been almost two months!  
> I was hoping to be a little more on-task with reuplaoding this, but apparently not.  
> On the plus side, though, I'm almost finished with Nanowrimo, which means I'll have that writing groove back (I hope).


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony takes a midnight trip to... uh, the middle east. Mum and Dad are probably gonna do more than ground him if he can't get back before they do.

The flight to Gulmira was shorter than both Tony and Yin had anticipated. One smoothie down and several noted improvements for the suit and the A.I. noted, and then they’re hovering over an active warzone. With Tony’s heart jackhammering painfully against the reactor, he steels himself for what he’s about to do.

“Fast descent, Yin. The stabilisers should absorb the impact. I want minimum visibility for the terrorists. Have the heat signature detective system up and ready.”

Wind rushes past the suit as Tony drops a hundred feet into the centre of a dilapidated village. The dust from the sun-burnt land jumps up, swirling around Tony, blinding the men with guns long enough for Tony to seek them out.

“Set to stun,” Tony orders.

The second the words are out of his mouth, mini-missiles shoot out from launchpads that popped up from his shoulders. Each one coded to hit an individual terrorist. One second, Tony is landing, the next, terrorists are dropping like clay pigeons at a shooting range.

“Have at it,” he calls to the villagers who slowly step out from their hiding places.

A young boy rushes forward towards his father who is on his knees facing the wall. Tony watches with satisfaction as they take the weapons away from the terrorists and regain control over their village.

“That was easy, right?” Tony crows, as they shoot back up into the sky.

“Perhaps, Young Anthony. Though, it appears we are in the middle of a no-fly-zone.”

Tony is too busy celebrating his win to consider the words, but slowly and surely they sink it.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“It appears—”

“Yeah, I heard. We were literally here a minute ago! Why am I only getting the message now?”

“The order was filed last night and granted zero-point seventeen seconds ago.”

As if to prove the point, two F22 Raptors move in from the cover of clouds and flank Tony.

“This is the United States Air Force. You are in an active no-fly zone. Please state your purpose and subject yourself to a thorough investigation.”

Tony is reaching Mach 2, but these fighter jets are keeping up.

“Yin, can we go faster?”

“Running calculation. Calculations complete. We can reach two-point-five, but it will take fifteen minutes to identify unnecessary energy expenditure and re-route to the thrusters.”

“Fifteen minutes?”

A timer pops up on the HUD, and Tony gulps down the panic. It’s one thing showing up home late after sneaking out, but being arrested by the air force after running off to the middle east at the age of 12 in a secret suit will likely earn him more than a grounding.

“Call Rhodey.”

While not ideal, the truth of the matter is that the Air Force won’t be able to identify the suit, which means they’ll call in help. If Howard is woken up at 3 in the morning, he might discover that Tony is not in bed. He may wander down to the lab, see schematics for a suit, hear about the mysterious ‘drone’ in the deserts of Gulmira and make some connections.

No matter what, Howard can _not_ find out that Tony is flying a suit of armour when he’s supposed to be in bed.

“Hey, Tones, I’m sorry to do this but I’ve got to hang up. We’ve just got a situation.”

Rhodey hangs up. Fear tightens Tony’s chest.

“Crap. Yin, re-route any calls to dad through to my suit. Use a voice modifier if you have to, but they _cannot_ call dad.”

Less than a minute passes before ‘USAF’ pops up on the HUD screen.

“Answer it.”

“Mr Stark, sorry for the late call. We’ve got a situation in the middle east. We’re sending images now. There appears to be a UFO. Any ideas?”

Pictures of a red and gold blur pop up on the screen. Tony swerves to the left, and he hears cries of shock from the observers on the other end of the call.

“Um. Yes. I, Howard, am currently, uh, looking at the photos. Thank you Rhodey, um, I mean, Mr Rhodes. Uh, Colonel Rhodes.”

If Tony’s feet weren’t currently encased, he’d kick himself.

“It appears harmless.”

“It’s in a no-fly zone.”

“Ah, well, you know how these things are. Runaway tech doesn’t respect boundaries. Right? Heh heh.”

“Do we know who’s it is?” the chief man says.

“One moment, please,” Rhodey says on the other end.

“Wait!”

Too late. Rhodey has hung up, and then from his private cell, Tony gets another call.

“Anthony Stark, are you _impersonating your father?_ ”

Rhodey’s voice is a harsh whisper, and Tony cringes. Excuses, lies, anything to get him out of this; they all fail to come to mind.

“Tony, I swear to god, this isn’t funny.”

“If they’re not responding to our commands, then we are clear to shoot them down.”

Suddenly, Yin has four alerts flashing red on the HUD. The raptors have shot out missiles that are on his tail.

“Crap. Yin, evasive manoeuvres.”

“Tony? Are you listening? Put your father on right now.”

“Sorry, Rhodey, no can do. I’m not home.”

“You’re not… it’s 3am, kid. Where could you--- oh, no no no, Tony please tell me you don’t have anything to do with this.”

“Ok, then I won’t.”

“Dammit, kid. What were you thinking?”

The missiles are still streaking after him, so Tony ducks into the mouth of a short canyon. Rock explodes on impact and showers him in dust. He uses the momentary distraction to keep up with the conversation and to latch onto the bottom of one of the raptors.

“The terrorists were hurting people, Rhodey.”

Tony doesn’t need to be there to know that Rhodey’s face is softening.

“That’s not your job. That’s mine.”

For a stupid, reckless moment, Tony wants to ask him why nothing had been done, but he tamps that down. It’s not on Rhodey.

“Whatever. Can you call off the hounds?”

“I can’t do that, Tony. That thing, whatever it is, is still in US air space. We can’t just let this kind of thing slide.”

 _He’s going to let me die,_ Tony almost cries out.

“We’ll talk about this later. Go back to bed, Tony.”

“He’s underneath you,” Tony hears someone shout through the phone. “It’s a—I can’t believe it. It’s a man.”

Rhodey swears.

“You’re in there, aren’t you?”

“Sorry.”

One of the planes shoot and it’s all Tony can do to avoid the damage. Unfortunately, the shot goes wide and knocks off the wing from the fighter jet that Tony had been hugging. The plane spirals, and from the plume of smoke, Tony sees the man eject.

“Do you see a parachute?”

“Negative. No parachute.”

“Power re-routed to thrusters,” Yin announces.

“Power up!” Tony shouts.

He twists in the air and dives towards the falling man, who’s working hard to pull the chute free. This, Tony knows, is a problem his father had found with the planes with just a glance. He’d warned the people in charge, but Tony thinks that they assumed Howard was just angry at having been passed over for the job.

Well, now they know.

Tony wraps metal fingers around the handle and yanks it out. The chute balloons behind the chair and suddenly, the noises on the other side of the phone erupts in a cheer.

“Get your ass out of there, Tony. We’ll talk about this later.”

Tony does not need to be told twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check it out. Two chapters in two days!
> 
> The comments on the last chapter really rallied me into pushing a few chapters out while I've got the time.
> 
> Love you all,
> 
> WritingPains


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey comes to say 'Hi' and also say 'WHAT THE HELL, TONY'

Hectic breathing offsets the illusion of sleep that Tony is trying to present. He’s admittedly not eager to fall asleep, but he’s even less excited about the prospect of suffering the next day with the continuation of tension gripping him.

 _Rhodey will be here any moment,_ Tony thinks, his fingers picking at the link on the duvet. _He’s going to come over and tell Mum and Dad that I flew to the other side of the world in a secret suit of armour and I’m not sure what the punishment for that will be. I don’t have a frame of reference._ _Throw in the fact that I fought with the US air force and I’ll never be allowed outside again._

“Tony, son, are you awake?”

A hand on his mouth is the only thing that stops Tony from screaming in surprise. A fairly deep, masculine scream, though.

“Yeah,” he replies, cringing at how squeaky it is.

“Come downstairs when you’re ready. Rhodes is here.”

_Oh no._

“Coming!”

Tony doesn’t believe in wasting people’s time, because it’s disrespectful, but he can’t bring himself to face Rhodey and that whole can of worms just yet. So, he steps into the shower. The cold water quickly becomes warm, loosening the muscles that had tightened on the journey home.

Once dry, wearing clothes and slightly more scared than he was before the shower, Tony slowly makes his way into the kitchen. Rhodey is leaning a hip against the worktop, talking animatedly with Jarvis. Howard and Maria are dancing, Howard with his hands on Maria’s waist, and Maria looking up adoringly into Howard’s eyes.

Rhodey hasn’t said anything yet, he realises. Thank god.

“Anthony, darling, your father and I thought we might go to the cinema later. There’s a new Star Wars movie you could watch.”

Rhodey’s attention snaps left immediately. His eyes bore into the side of Tony’s head.

“Sure, Dad, that sounds great. Any idea where on the timeline this one will be?”

“Actually, before you guys get into the lore and gore of the Star Wars universe, can I steal Tony away?”

The plan did _not_ work. Abort. Abort.

“Of course. I’ll tell you about it over breakfast.”

“It’ll be ready in ten minutes boys. If you’re late, you’re eating an apple and nothing else.”

With Ana’s threat lingering, Rhodey hustles Tony out of the kitchen, up the stairs and back into his room.

“What on _Earth_ were you thinking?” Rhodey explodes. “The middle of the night? In a manned AV? _On the other side of the world_? You were supposed to be in bed! Not fighting terrorists. I don’t even know where to start with how messed up this is, Tones. You could have been brutally murdered, and I’d be left finding you, again. Do you understand what you’ve done? What could have happened?”

Tony bobs his head, collapsing into his mattress with his head hanging down.

“Sorry, Rhodey, but—"

“I know. Kid, I get it. You’re angry at them for what they did, but come on.”

“It’s not because I’m angry.”

Rhodey pauses, his rhythm rocked to a halt.

“I’m angry, sure, but I’m doing it because they’re dangerous. I was able to protect myself from them in the end, but Yin, his family, the people from his village, they don’t have what I have. But I do. So, I should use it to help people. You know?”

“Tones, that’s not your job.”

“No, but I want it to be. I want to help people. I can _help_ people.”

A softness comes over Rhodey’s face, and he pulls Tony onto his lap, as though he weren’t almost thirteen years old.

“Rhodey, I’m not five.”

“No, but you are still small for your age. Listen, kid, this isn’t your responsibility. There are people out there, professionals, who know what they’re doing. You have to trust us to be able to do our jobs. Even when it seems like we’re not.”

Tony doesn’t know what to say. Any kind of response is likely to either launch Rhodey full speed into an epic lecture or offend him. And since neither option is particularly desirable, Tony decides that what they need to steer clear is a distraction.

“Want to see the suit?”

Rhodey runs his teeth along his teeth through a smile.

“I know what you’re doing, and this isn’t the end of this conversation, but _yes please._ ”

Tony beams with excitement as he asks Yin to bring up the suit. Tony steps back at the hologram appears in the middle of the room, life-sized and ready to be picked apart.

“This is a marvel, Tones.”

Rhodey shifts Tony back onto the bed and stands up, walking around the suit and surveying it. His eyes are alight with glee, Tony is pleased to see. He presses into the hologram, and Yin helpfully removes a section of the suit and offers labels for everything.

“How’d you do it?”

“I built the first one in the cave.”

Rhodey flinches away from the holo-suit.

“What?”

“Yinsen and I, we cannibalised the missiles and whatever else they brought up. It’s how we made the Arc Reactor, and how we made the suit.”

“Yinsen?”

“Ana said we have ten minutes. We only have a minute. Last one there washes up!”

Tony races out of his bedroom and away from the conversation.

* * *

“Dad, come look!”

Rhodey had hung around until lunch, but he had a week off duty and he went to visit his own family. Once he was gone, Tony was back in the lab, running through his and Yin’s list of improvements; both for the suit and the AI.

Howard had popped by just to ‘check in’ and ‘remind you of the cinema, Tony. You need to wash up first. I’m not taking you like that’.

Tony ignored it all and grabbed his dad’s hand and started dragging him inside.

“Oh no!” Howard cries out, falling to his knees. “I’ve forgotten how to walk. You’ll have to drag me the whole way!”

“Dad!” Tony laughs, dragging the ‘A’ out as long as possible. “No!”

“Oh dear. How ever will I see what you want to show me? I’ve forgotten how to see.”

Tony smirks.

“Yin, say hello to my Dad.”

“Hello, Master Howard.”

Howard’s eyes shoot open, and he pushes himself up onto his elbows. He searches the room, mouth flattening and then he meets Tony’s eyes.

“Anthony,” he whispers, seriously, “did you make an A.I.?”

“Um. Yes?”

Was he not supposed to do? Is that a bad thing to have done?

“My god, Tony,” Howard shouts. “That’s—that’s incredible.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Howard clambers back to his feet and takes Tony’s hand.

“Tell me exactly what you did.”

With a giddiness he thought he’d left behind in his pre-Afghanistan days, Tony rushes around the lab searching for his notes. He and his dad pour over them for an hour, taking the process step by step.

“This is genius. I know I say this all the time, but I’m so _so_ proud of you.”

The hug feels good, and Tony is doubly grateful that the mission last night didn’t go wrong. It would have been so easy to have made a wrong move. If he hadn’t come back, his parents would have been devastated. And he would never have gotten this hug.

“You called it Yin?”

“Y.I.N.S.E.N.”

“Ah. Like…”

“Like an acronym. It stands for: Your Intelligent Network Software… Engine… Network?”

“Remind me never to let you name things.”

Tony grins wide, glad to have avoided that particular explanation. He’s not sure he’s ready for that particular battle yet. Though, he will need to give his father some of the story, sooner rather than later.

“Dad, I think I’m ready to talk more about the cave.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony opens up, and so does the mystery of why he was kidnapped.

Howard is quiet as Tony talks. The kind of quiet that promises one is listening. An attentive quiet, with head inclinations and soft hums. Each tiny indication helps Tony to keep talking around the growing lump in his throat.

It’s a relief, and Tony knows that Howard is giving his son as much space as possible to get this out. Tony talks about what he can. It starts with the Hum-vee and the nice soldiers that were teaching him how to say the ‘F word’ in different languages. How there was a big bang, and Tony was instantly pushed down into the footwell.

“I couldn’t see anything, cause the explosions were so bright, and I couldn’t hear anything, cause they were so _loud._ All I heard was this, _this_ _ringing._ Then there was—was no one in the car anymore and—and Jody hit the window and there was so much b—blood.” Tony tucks his hands close to his chest. “And I was alone. So I crawled out of the car to try and _run_ but there was nowhere to go. I was alone. Rhodey and Obie weren’t in the car behind me like they promised and I was on my own, and—and—”

The words won’t come, and Howard decides that it’s time to take a break.

“Let’s get you some water, Tony.”

Howard wraps his hands around Tony’s shoulders. It’s how Tony notices that Howard is shaking, almost as much as he is.

“Yeah, water sounds good.”

Twenty minutes later, the two of them are in the Howard’s office. Tony with a capri sun and Howard with a green tea. It takes a while for Tony to continue the story. Howard is patient, unprompting. Supportive just in presence.

“I saw one of the bombs hit the ground next to me, and I didn’t have enough time to run away. I don’t… I just woke up later and there was… I had a battery in my chest.”

The ache is back, the one that Tony woke up to when he discovered the hole in his chest and the machine he was surviving on. The chill that hung in the air, even during the daytime, breezes through the room and Tony shivers.

“If you want to take a break? We can always come back to this conversation later on.”

“No. I can do this.”

And he does. Tony continues, taking the story slowly, pausing when he can’t help but talk about Yinsen. Every dodge around the subject feels like a battering ram to the chest. It knocks him back against the armchair until he’s crying.

“Yinsen saved me. He helped me, and when we were trying to escape, he sacrificed himself to save me.”

* * *

Rhodey returns three days later while Tony is fixing the missile systems on the suit. Howard and Maria had to attend a gala somewhere upstate for some charity Tony was too busy to research. It had taken some convincing, but they finally relented when Rhodey had suggested coming over. They’d refused to entertain the idea of calling Jarvis and Ana back while they were enjoying their hard-earned weekend away.

Rhodey was babysitting, but Tony actively ignored that word. He was twelve. He didn’t need a babysitter. This was definitely more for his parents benefit than his own. Tony could probably spend the entire day down in the lab and not even realise it. Why would anyone need to be around for that? He doesn’t need to be fed or watered at any point.

“Hey, kid. How’re you doing?”

Tony doesn’t bother turning around. He throws a hand, the one holding a wrench, up in a wave and quickly returns to his task

“I’m doing good. You?”

“Fantastic. What’re you working on?”

“Suit.”

Rhodey steps further into the workshop but doesn’t say anything else. Tony only realises that Rhodey is behind him when a hand appears on his shoulder.

“Tones, how’s it going? Your dad said you opened up about… the cave.”

“Ooh,” Tony laughs, dropping into a squat in order to tighten a screw on the suits ankle. “’The Cave’. Sounds like a thriller novel.”

There’s no immediate response. Tony rolls his eyes, even though Rhodey can’t see. This is so typical _adult_. Just do the silent treatment until someone talks. Well, Tony isn’t feeling all the conversational today. He’d gotten all of that out earlier in the week, when he’d talked to his dad.

“It’s whatever, Rhodey. Wanna see inside the suit?”

Planting himself on the floor, Tony lays back to look up at Rhodey with a goofy grin. The blink of confusion he receives in response does not promote the giddiness Tony is feeling. Tony purses his lips and sits up.

“Why do you have the grumps, Platypus?”

“Platypus?”

“Roll with it,” Tony throws out offhandedly as he rolls to his feet. “Why’re you looking like I stepped on your tail?”

The workshop music dims to a hum, courtesy of Yin. The AI is slowly taking initiative, which is amazing, but Tony is still anxious to see where it can go, and whether he needs to make some limitations.

“Tony, you’re not thinking of going back out in that thing, are you?”

The question knocks Tony back an emotion, going from confused to frustrated.

“What do you expect me to do with it, honey bear? Put it in a box like an over-sized action figure?”

“No. But I also don’t expect a twelve-year-old _child_ to fly around active war zones. You still need your parents’ permission to fly on a plane alone! You can’t—I won’t let you do this again.”

A slice of pain radiates from Tony’s palm as he digs his nails in. He body jerks with shock. Rhodey, knowing Tony arguably too well, reaches down and unfurls his fist. His thumb rubs along the indents, smoothing away the harsh lines.

“I’m not trying to control your life, or make you miserable, but surely you understand that this is dangerous? Especially for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Tony, use that big brain of yours,” Rhodey says not unkindly. “You’re not just the son of a billionaire industrialist. You’re also riding on the top zero point zero zero zero one percentile for IQ in the country. You’re invaluable, both as a source of ransom and intelligence. You’re worth a lot to any kidnapper for whatever reason they get their hands on you. And what if those kidnappers want more than that? What if they want power? Whether you like it or not, you’re America’s golden child. If you’re taken and forced to do things that hurt your country, you’re going to end up suffering twice over. The public aren’t forgiving in cases of treason.

“And, aside from all the political motivations, what about us? Your family, the Jarvis’, me? What happens when you make a single mistake while flying around and it gets you take from us? I don’t know if we can handle this.”

Not wanting to hear any more of this, Tony puts his hands on Rhodey’s chest and pushes.

“Tones, you know I’m telling the truth.”

Tony’s wrist strain from the effort of trying to push Rhodey out of his way, but the man is a rock, and Tony is not particularly strong. He’s not ashamed of the fact, but he is aware of it.

“Don’t try to walk away from this situation. We need to talk. This is serious.”

“Just because you say it’s serious, doesn’t mean it is.”

Rhodey doesn’t even try to hide the long-suffering sigh as he follows Tony through the workshop.

“At least bring your father into the conversation.”

“Why? Because he’s going to be more willing to let me go out into it?”

“No, of course not. But I think he’ll be able to talk some sense into you.”

“I don’t _need_ sense talked into me, Rhodey. I thought you understood. What I _need_ is to do this. When you have the means to protect people, you should. It’s that simple.”

“But what about giving those means to someone who is more capable? Older, perhaps? Have you considered that?”

“Of course I have. I wanted—Well, I wanted _you_ to do it. But I think the only person I can truly—”

“Young Anthony, I have found a video in the Stark Industries Server that I believe is on interest to you.”

The distraction is a welcome one and Tony latches on immediately.

“Throw it up on the screen and dim the lights, please.”

Tony jumps up and sits on the worktop behind him. Rhodey, looking like he has no intention of letting the conversation come to an end, leans into the table next to Tony and focuses on the screen ahead of them.

The instant the screen lights up, Tony is pulled into Rhodey’s tight grip, and he doesn’t fight to get away this time. Instead, one of his hands reaches up and grasps a handful of the mans hooded shirt.

“What is this?” Tony’s shaky voice carries over the eerie silence. “Is that me?”

On the screen, surrounded by men wearing headscarves and angry expressions, is a small boy carrying a car battery close to his chest. His clothes are tattered, his bare arms and legs are bloodied, and there is a brown sack over his head.

“We never saw this,” Rhodey says.

The bag is pulled up, and there he is. Tony, blinking at the sudden light, watery eyes searching the room and finding the camera.

Voices, so familiar that present Tony is trembling already, begin to shout, but the words are foreign.

“Translate,” Tony commands, pushing himself further into Rhodey’s side.

“—don’t pay us what he’s worth, then you’re going to have bigger problems than the golden goose being alive. You never told us who it was. This boy isn’t a hundred thousand dollar job, Stane.”

Whatever else the men on the TV say is lost, as Tony stills and soaks in the news.

“Uncle Obie tried to get me killed.”

The screen is blocked as Rhodey puts a hand on his arms and kneels down in front of him.

“Tony, listen to me, I want you to hide the suit and lock the doors to the workshop, do you understand? Can you have your A.I. send this video to your parents?”

Tony nods jerkily and gives Yin the order.

“Stay here. We’ll fix this, I promise.”

The doors swoosh open as Rhodey approaches and close as soon as he’s gone. The music hums away in the background, but Tony can’t hear anything but the thudding of his own heart.

“Uncle Obie,” he repeats, swallowing down the panic that threatens to erupt. “Dad’s gonna be so upset.”

A memory from a week prior pops up in his mind unbidden. The evening when Obadiah was acting strangely at dinner, the fleeting emotions displayed on his face, the discomfort Tony felt when Obie came too close.

The way Obie had hungrily stared at the arc reactor.

That man, who had been as good as family for longer that Tony had even been alive, paid the terrorists to kill Tony.

“Yin, do we have eyes on Obie or my parents?”

“Yes. Your parents are receiving a phone call from Colonel Rhodes and are on their way to collect their car from the valet. Obadiah Stane is in his car five minutes from here.”

A map of New York State pops up to replace the video. Three red dots blink away, one labelled for his parents and the two closest together showing Tony and Obie.

“He’s on his way.”

Tony thinks of all the staff upstairs, and how many of them would put themselves in harms way to protect him.

He can’t let that happen, Tony realises. He has to make sure no one else gets hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love CHRISTMAS.  
> I may be on the otherside of the world from my family, and it may be a long time until I'm able to return home and see them, but I won't let Corona ruin my favourite holiday. I've got my crappy 100cm tree up, started making my friends their christmas presents and begun the arduous task of watch the same christmas movies as last year, even if they've got different names this time.
> 
> I hope to keep up some other spirits this year, so you can bet I'm gonna try to post as often as possible.
> 
> For those of you who like Marvel, I've got a million other fics available. Many of them are Kid!Tony. I'm working on a long-chaptered but short fic called Homeless, which is a crossover of Marvel and TMNT. Head over if you're interested.
> 
> Anyway,
> 
> Peace out, homies.  
> See you next time I post. :D


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obie arrives.

An electric current runs through the manor, lifting the tiny hairs on Tony’s arms and on the back of his neck. The silence that rides atop the fear like a remora traversing the ocean upon a shark steals the gasps from Tony’s shaking form.

Five minute ago, Tony announced a house-wide vacation, and the staff bounced quickly. Not that he blames them: working as much as they do means that they deserve more vacation than they get, and Howard is already generous with the days off.

He just hopes they don’t get into trouble for believing the house-wide text message he sent from his Dad’s number.

Now, Tony simply waits. Waits for the man he once considered family to come in and ruin everything.

Crunching rocks alert Tony to Obadiah’s arrival. Heavy footsteps pound up the stone steps, and keys jingle as they slot into the door, scraping around in the lock until it clicks.

“Tony, my boy, where are you?”

_SEVEN YEARS PREVIOUSLY_

_“Tony, my boy, where are you?”_

_Tony ducks underneath the kitchen table, the arm of his teddy bear stuffed tightly in his mouth to absorb the uncontrollable laughter. Obadiah stomps around the kitchen, politely stepping around Ana while she prepares the food for their picnic later that morning._

_“Ana, darling, have you seen Tony? He appears to have mysteriously disappeared.”_

_Twisting to her left and glancing down at Tony, she smiles and winks._

_“Not a peep from the boy since breakfast, Master Obadiah. Perhaps he climbed into a wardrobe and got lost?”_

_“Oh no, no. Not Anthony. He couldn’t get lost in a maze. Far too smart for that. Which means he must be around here somewhere!”_

_The view from under the table is only partially blocked by the legs of the chairs. Tony crawls forward as Obie nears the table, but soon Obie is too close, and Tony can only see the mans pressed trousers and shined shoes._

_“I wonder, I wonder, where could that boy have gone?”_

_Body shivering with repressed giggles, Tony scoots back, twisting his body to follow the journey of Obie’s legs as he walks around the table._

_“He must be nearby. He must!”_

_Obie’s voice is loud, almost shouting, but his tone remains playful. Suddenly, all movement stops. Tony bites down on poor teddies arm, anxiously watching._

_“GOT YOU!”_

_Large hands reach under the table and wrap around Tony’s waist, pulling him out. For a brief, breathless second, Tony is flying in the air, but then Obie has him again. Settled against the man’s hip, fingers begin assaulting his sides. Tony shrieks._

_“Did you think it was funny to hide from your Uncle Obie?”_

_“Y—yes,” Tony guffaws._

_The laughter only comes to an end when Maria appears to lift him onto her own hip. Still breathless with laughter, little Tony squirms in his mother’s grip and hides his face in her curly tufts of hair._

_“Oof, you’re getting a bit big for this,” she notes while pressing a kiss to his head. “Let’s get you ready for the picnic love.”_

_Tony waves to his uncle over his mother’s shoulder, and Obie smiles._

“Tony, my boy, where are you?”

The booming voice jolts Tony from his stillness, but instead of stepping back and running away like he knows he should, he steps forward. His nerves fire off warnings. Sweat beads on his forehead, trickles along his hair line and slides down his neck.

There’s no way that this is going to end well for them. For _Tony._ The man he considered family is not going to let himself lose a second time.

Obadiah saunters forward, oblivious—intentionally, probably—of Tony’s anxiety that rolls from him in waves.

He’s a towering man when there is no one else but Tony to compare to. Tony who is twelve, small and weak, looks up slowly as Obadiah advances, exuding power. In one hand, he has a pizza box. In the other, something is hidden in a clenched fist. Tony tries not to imagine the possibilities.

There’s no saying what his uncle is capable of.

“Hi Uncle Obie. Dad’s not here.”

“I know. I thought I would come over, bring you some pizza. Your favourite.”

The lid of the pizza box is lifted, and Tony spies a meat-feast supreme. The cheese sizzles as steam rises, and the smell alone would normally have Tony drooling. Today, the smell makes him want to heave.

“Come along.”

The beast of a man moves through the entryway and into the lounge with the aura of someone who owns the world. Tony follows dutifully, his heart humming, the back of his t-shirt dampening. The pizza box dominates the coffee table, much like Obie does the room.

“How are you, Anthony? Are you settling back in well?”

“Yes.”

A static silence grows charged between them. Obie frowns at the wrought tension but seems to push it aside with the flash of a bright smile.

“I hope you’ve come to your senses about the weapons part of our company.”

Though Tony is very aware of how dangerous the situation is in, how he’s playing with fire, his passion for moving the company away from weapons flares brighter. The smart option would be to turn and run.

“My senses were never skewed. Our weapons were in the hands of the enemy. That means we’re arming the terrorists against _our_ soldiers. As far as I understand it, Stark Industries is about protecting _us._ Not _them_.”

A strong hand comes down on Tony’s shoulder, and he locks his knees against the weight.

“I wish I knew how to convince you otherwise, my boy. We’re iron mongers. It’s in our blood. Your grandfather worked on the Manhattan project; did you know that?”

“Yes, and I also know that the majority of people involved in the atomic bomb regretted it. Even Einstein. The destruction is enough to back my own beliefs. That bomb killed over two hundred thousand people!”

“And if we hadn’t, they would have done the same to us,” Obadiah shouts.

“Oh, and that’s the saying, is it? Fight fire with fire? Two wrongs make a right?”

Tony is breathless with anger, but Obie’s own fury dries up quickly.

“If that’s how it must be.”

A sympathetic expression crosses Obadiah’s face, and then a spark of pain streaks down Tony’s back. His entire body stiffens, like the spell Hermione uses in the first Harry Potter book. Frozen in place, Tony topples to the side and smacks against the ground. A dull ache blooms along his arms, and he knows if he were to survive this, he will be bruised for weeks.

But he holds no such hope.

“I’m sorry to have to do this, Anthony, but the future of the company cannot lie in your hands. However, the future of the weapons lies in this.”

The cool air hits Tony’s chest as Obie rips the cotton t-shirt apart like wrapping paper.

It’s not until Obie pulls out a metal device that Tony truly realises what’s happening.

All objections lock in his throat, all his limbs lock into place, and Tony realises with mounting horror that he can’t move. He follows Obadiah’s painfully slow and precise movements as he fixes the device to Tony’s chest and pulls out the only thing stopping his heart from being shredded by slithers from the weapons that Obadiah sold to the enemy.

“Sorry, my boy, but this had to be done.”

 _They’ll know it was you. You’ll never get away with this. You’re going to regret throwing away this family._ The words are there, in Tony’s mind, but his body is refusing to acknowledge them. They’re trapped beneath his tongue, and ask Obadiah walks away for the last time, a tear splashes onto the floor.

Before the door closes, Obadiah looks back one last time.

And smiles.

“I will be sad when you die.”

Then, nothing. Obie is gone, and Tony lays on the floor, still as a rock, suffering from agonising pain and praying that if he was destined to die, it would happen sooner rather than later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> December is such a weird month because Christmas is both exciting and stressful.  
> This year, for so many of us, that stress has taken on a new life. With Corona and the devestation wrought by it we're all entering a different December than we did last year.  
> I'm going to try and update more often, just to do something small that might take you out of whatever stress you might be feeling this month.  
> Keep an eye out!
> 
> Happy Holidays, peeps.
> 
> Peace Out,
> 
> WritingPains.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's only a few dozen feet between Tony and the workshop, but the journey there makes every inch feel like a mile.

Obadiah is gone. The house is empty, except for Tony. The coppery taste of blood coats his blue lips, and the pungent smell of fear-filled sweat burns his nostrils. Death, Tony decides, is not as romantic as it seemed in Romeo and Juliet.

He’s never even kissed a girl that wasn’t his mother.

“Colonel Rhodes, Mr and Mrs Jarvis, and your parents have been informed. Are you well, Young sir?”

Still only in control of his eyes, Tony searches for something to help him. Outside, beyond the lights that are reflecting on the windows, the night sky glittering with the brightest stars; the ones that defy light pollution. The room still holds the warm smell of pizza, which sits on the table directly in front of Tony. Not that he’s hungry. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to feel anything other than a deep, deep betrayal. Or death, depending on how things work out.

This would be much easier to resolve it Y.I.N.S.E.N. were more advanced, but for now, it’s all in Tony’s hands.

Tony’s completely immobile hands.

Hopelessness. Anger. Sadness. Tony wishes there was a word he could use to accurately describe just how he feels, but he’s not sure which one even cuts it close. He’s never felt this way before. The biggest betrayal he’s ever experienced was when Howard sided with Maria when Tony had stayed late in his Dad’s lab.

_“We told you to be out by seven, Tony. You know it’s dangerous in there.”_

Except, Tony had explained, Dad was in there until early morning sometimes. Why was Tony any different? Weren’t they alike? Wasn’t Tony taking after Howard? He’d expected pride, not a lecture.

Age had been the response. Age and experience. Tony was banned from the lab for a week and permanently banned from going in alone a month later after blacking out the entire block when he’d shorted a wire that was still connected to the wall.

The point is, Tony’s only experience in being betrayed is actually something that wasn’t a betrayal at all.

So, to find words to describe a sensation he’s unfamiliar with would be a Sisyphean task. And not something that will help him at this moment.

Tony has been left with the task of suffering a slow, avoidable death. Just a few feet below him were the tools he needed to create a temporary solution.

He’s a ticking clock. Every second he’s losing time, and he’s no idea when the timer will end.

 _I wish mum and dad were here,_ he thinks miserably. A tear slips down into his hairline and by instinct, Tony reaches up to wipe it away. His hand doesn’t come up to his face, but his finger does twitch.

_It’s wearing off._

There’s no way to calculate exactly how long it’ll take for the shrapnel to reach his heart. Maybe minutes, maybe hours, perhaps even days. The uncertainty twists his stomach and amps up the burning in his chest.

Tony has to believe he’s got longer than a few minutes to live. And if that is true, then this predicament is wearing off fast enough that he’s already able to move, he should be able to get to the lab in time to find something, _anything_ , to replace the reactor.

Timing is everything. The police should be here in fifteen minutes if his parents know what happened and called. His parents should be back within an hour, along with Rhodey. There’s no saying how long it’ll take for the Jarvis’ to get there since Tony doesn’t know where they were. Their home isn’t far away, but they like to take trips to lakes and parks and mountain ranges on their days off.

So, Tony is on his own until he’s not. Not ideal, but Tony’s worked with less and come out on top.

Testing any differences, a thrill of excitement runs through Tony when his foot shifts slightly. It’s not full control, not yet, but it’s close.

Slowly, as the muscles in Tony’s body respond to his demands, he’s able to turn over. Though he feels like an infant unable to walk, the moment Tony is on his front again he doesn’t hesitate to slowly edge forward. Using his weak legs and desperate hands, Tony inches his way towards the staircase that leads to the lab.

The stairs have never looked so daunting before. His sweat slickened body and his unresponsive muscles won’t do much against crashing into the hallway below and possibly breaking every bone in his body. Unfortunately, options are not freely available, and his chest burns with the knowledge that tiny pieces of sharp metal are swimming through his veins in a concentrated effort to get to his heart.

 _Slowly,_ Tony tells himself.

The ache in his arms as he grips the handrail is deep. Deep enough that it seems to vibrate his bones and make itself home in his marrow. The edges of the steps scrape at his legs as he slides, the denim of his jeans slowly heating up and burning his skin from friction. Tears of frustration spillover, but at the same time, alongside the panic and pain of moving, Tony can feel something else coming over him.

As if building up and replacing the paralysis, a curious weakness that chills his body swells and spreads. Almost like those moments when you know you’re about to come down with the flu, and your body is warning you, only worse because it’s everywhere but a steady thumping pain in his chest tells him exactly what is going on.

He doesn’t have hours after all.

He can’t stop, though. That’s not an option. He needs to survive.

There’s no way Tony and Yinsen created the miniature arc reactor just to have it weaponised in their memories.

The tiled floor of the lab is cool to the touch, and for a terrifying second, Tony imagines just spreading out and dying there. The worst part of dying, he decides, is that someone he loves will be the one to find his body. The people he cares for the most in the world, his mum, dad, Jarvis, Ana, Rhodey—they’ll have to mourn for him, and this time, unlike with the cave, there will be no hope of him ever returning.

“DUM-E, help!” Tony croaks.

From somewhere deep within the workshop, a distressed whirring rings out and slowly grows louder and louder until the robot is screeching to stop beside Tony’s prone body.

“Yin, direct Dum-E into fashioning an AR with—with—” Tony blinks slowly, mind fading around the edges, “with a car battery. Take it from—from the, uh, Ford Flathead Roadster. It’s functional.”

Dum-E disappears from one blink to another.

“Young Anthony, the literature that I am reviewing advises against falling asleep.”

“Sure, Yin,” Tony slurs.

But the advice is useless against Tony’s growing tiredness. Weight piles onto his body and his eyelids rest longer and longer between blinks. There’s no fighting it, now. The pain is off-set only by the bone-deep exhaustion that sliding close to death can bring.

“Young Anthony?”

Those words sew the final thread in Tony’s consciousness, and the next second, he is settling into the darkness like it were his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is coming!


	14. A Man in a Metal Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's life changes forever when he learns of the betrayal. Now, it's up to him to do something about it.

Chapter Fourteen

Tony comes to with the sensation of a metal claw nudging his arm. He gasps and lurches upwards. Immediately, his stomach contracts, throwing him into a bout of coughing. Streaks of pain explode from his chest. Tony screams, already falling back to the floor, but DUM-E puts his claw against Tony’s back and helps him sit up.

He looks down and finds the faux-arc reactor running. The weight of the battery beside his hand vastly outweighs the actual mass of the thing, but Tony can’t focus on that now.

There are bigger, scarier things that he needs to do.

First and foremost, he has to stop Obie and he has to do it now.

Tony hoists himself up, using Dum-E’s hand as leverage, and stumbles towards the suit that Y.I.N.S.E.N has pulled out of its hiding place. It forms around Tony’s body, and he’s able to hang the damned car battery on his back, like grotesque backpack.

The suit powers up immediately, but it’s slow. Lagging. The car battery doesn’t have enough juice to power suit and the reactor, but Tony doesn’t have a choice. He’s stuck with what he has, but he’s nothing if not resourceful.

“Find Obadiah,” Tony orders.

It takes Yin less than a second, and then Tony is off, flying towards the bastard that he once thought of as family.

~

“You’ll regret what you did, Obie,” Tony shouts.

The hulking suit turns to face Tony, and the faceplate slides up, revealing Obie’s snarling face. Tony’s heart clenches, and it has nothing to do with the missing reactor.

“Why?” Tony asks, his voice breaking. “I don’t understand. What did I do wrong?”

Finding Obie had been pitifully easy. Unfortunately, Tony hadn’t considered the implications of actually being face-to-face with the man.

Fighting Obadiah won’t be like taking down terrorists. The terrorist were there for his torture. Obie was there for his upbringing.

“You were more valuable dead than alive.”

Tony shoots a repulsor blast at the crass version of his original suit, and Obie stumbles with the impact. Tony shoots again, but this shot doesn’t impact the way it’s supposed to. Obie jumps up and takes to the air, and Tony follows behind him, doing everything he can to incapacitate the suit without killing Obadiah.

Obie touches down on a highway and lifts a minivan above his head. It teeters side to side, but Obie has enough control over the suit. He won’t drop the van unless he wants to.

The sound of screams has Tony rushing forward and wrestling the van from Obie’s iron grip. The people inside, a woman and three children, don’t stop screaming, and Tony wishes he could calm them down cause they’re freaking him out. Screaming, he decides, will never be something he can get used to. Their terror only heightens his own, and it settles as a weight in the pit of his stomach.

Obie’s grip loosens, and Tony sets the car back down on the road. The engine is roaring before Tony has even let go, and it immediately runs him over. It hurts, but not as much as when Obie’s boot comes down on Tony’s chest and stomps hard. He can hear the battery behind him crush, and the power it offers the suit depletes further.

Time to make an executive, and potentially very, _very_ dangerous decision.

Tony pushes Obie away and then flies up, as high as he can, beyond the clouds and towards the stars. Obie follows behind him screaming obscenities and promising Tony a world of pain.

‘No assault is going to hurt harder than what I have to do,’ Tony thinks, swallowing the guilt welling up inside of him.

Space stretches out above him, a blanket of blackness with a smattering of glitter.

It’s a beautiful night to have to do something like this.

Hovering above the toy city below, Tony allows Obadiah to catch up before speaking.

“Hey, how’d you solve the icing problem?”

The faceplate is down, but Tony can imagine the look of furious confusion on his face. What Tony _can_ see is frost creeping up the silver suit and hardening. The reactor in Obie’s suit flickers and the entire thing starts to plummet to the ground.

Tony follows after, reaching out for Obie’s hand. If he hits to ground from this height, he’ll surely die. Maybe Tony can save him, even if it is just for prison.

He manages to slow the suit somewhat but Obie is struggling. Tony’s grip isn’t enough to carry the weight, and they separate. Obie’s suit hits it with a crunch. Motionless, Tony panics, thinking it’s a sure sign Obie is dead.

Tony is at his side, tearing the faceplate off, within seconds.

“Obie?”

A hand grabs Tony’s wrist, making the boy rear back in a panic.

“This isn’t the end, boy,” Obie sneers.

“Why did you do this?”

Is the acceptance Tony’s family offered, the open arms they greeted Obadiah with, something the man scoffed at? After everything, the trust, the memories, the time spent; it’s all come to this.

“Because Anthony. Your father is a soft touch, but you will drive this company into the ground.”

Tony wrenches his arm away and pulls the arc reactor out of the suit and hastily swaps it with his own. Obie’s suit is rendered useless immediately, and he won’t be able to move without it. The suit it too heavy, and Obie simply isn’t that strong.

Tony turns away, discarding the remains of the battery and he crushes the substitute reactor under his boot.

“I won’t visit you in prison,” Tony mutters.

Home is so far away, even though it’ll take five minutes to return. All he wants is his bed, his parents, and sleep.

As he walks away, a gunshot tears through the air. His body grow tense, consciously searching out the point of entry, but there’s nothing. He turns around to find Obie half out of the suit with a gun his hand and a hole in his forehead.

Still as a rock. Tony knows his godfather is dead. Tony steps forward, the clunky metal of his suit stomping down and throwing an echo up into the air.

“Don’t move.”

Swallowing a cry of fear, Tony twists around. A man with sunglasses, a suit and a gun aimed at Tony’s chest takes a few long strides until he’s in Tony’s face.

“Who are you?”

Tony shoots into the sky, leaving the strange man and Obie’s body on the ground.

He’s not sure what he can do now, other than to head home.

~

Tony falls out of the suit when he gets to the workshop, the aches and pains catching up with him instantly. Yin hides the armour away and a second later the workshop doors are opened allowing entry to Howard, Jarvis and Rhodey.

Weakened beyond anything Tony has ever known, he can’t even stand up. His dad kneels beside him, but he doesn’t touch Tony. Instead, his worried hands hover over his body in all the places where he hurts the most.

“Tony— Obie, he—”

Howard knows, then. Which means the circumstances of Obadiah’s death is likely not a secret.

“I know,” Tony whimpers. “He took the reactor… a man in a suit brought it back to me.”

Rhodey looks _unimpressed_ by the lie, but Tony won’t feel bad. He can’t.

“A man in a suit?” Jarvis asks, helping to bring Tony to his feet.

“Yeah,” Tony continues his lie with ease, though it’s painful to talk. “A metal one.”

Howard is about to ask another question, but Tony stumbles and his consciousness wanes.

“Call an ambulance now!”

And then Tony collapses into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll hopefully be able to get back onto a schedule now that the craziness of christmas is over!


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Eleven

The first thing Tony feels isn’t pain. Later, when his mind is cognizant enough, he’ll wonder why that is, but in the moments of waking, he feels warmth. There’s a comforting pressure on his hands, which lay either side of him, and they’re warm.

“He’s waking up,” someone whispers.

Tony stirs under the voice, and it’s then that he feels the beginnings of pain.

“Dad?” he manages to groan.

The lights sting at his eyes, but he forces himself to be properly awake. His thoughts are muddled, images of unexplainable things come to his mind, but when the fog lifts, Tony lurches forward. His father quickly puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder and pushes him back into the pillows.

“Obadiah.”

Howard stiffens, and Maria’s hand tightens on Tony’s. Tony’s free hand comes up and covers the arc reactor, the fear of it being stolen from him, making him hunch into himself.

“Tony, I’m so sorry for what he did,” Howard says. “If I had had any idea, he would never have gotten as far as he did. I can’t… I can’t believe he would do that to us.”

Tony doesn’t know what to say, and he’s too cowardly to ask if Obie died.

Obie, the man who sat and watched on proudly as Tony made his first circuit board at four. Obie, his godfather, who helped him study the components of a car engine and bought him his first car so that Tony could tinker with it when he was six. His beloved Uncle, who called Tony ‘my boy’ and stood by Tony whenever his father was out looking for the elusive Captain America. He was family, and he’d thrown it all away in a fit of greed.

The same man who was his fathers’ best friend for years.

“He’s gone now,” Maria assures. “He can’t hurt our family anymore.”

Tony’s hand drops from his chest and reaches out for his father.

“I’m sorry.”

Howard smiles sadly and shakes his head.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Tony. Promise me you’ll remember that?”

Tony doesn’t know how to do that. He’s not sure he’s completely free of fault here, but he can see that his father has no intention of accepting that. He’ll just stew on it for a while, figure out how it is his fault, and _then_ explain that to his father. He was taught long ago that someone has to take responsibility, and this time it seems like it’s on Tony.

“Colonel Rhodes will be around to visit tomorrow,” Maria says, running her fingers through Tony’s hair. “He was very worried about you, but he had some stuff to deal with.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Well, you know how you said a man in a metal suit brought you back the reactor?”

Tony nods.

“Well,” Howard continues, “it turns out the same man fought with Obadiah. From the sounds of it, he did everything he could to save him, but when Stane tried to shoot the metal man from behind, and someone named Coulson ended up having to intervene. No one is sure who the man is, but Rhodes says the military has seen him before.”

There a light in Howard’s eyes that Tony would smirk at in any other circumstances. Howard may have been worried for Tony’s life, but there’s no removing the ingrained curiosity from him. Even in the face of his best friend betraying him in the worst way, Howard is excited about the prospect of the suit of armour.

Tony nods again, finding it strange to hear his own story retold with such interest. It was a painful fight for many reasons, and despite the grief, Tony can’t help but share in his father’s admiration. Tony wonders if his dad would be even more impressed if he learnt that his son was the one who built and operated the thing.

“While it’s an amazing feat, I don’t want to hear anything about you doing anything like that until you’re at least in your twenties,” Maria says, giving Howard a stern look.

For a millisecond spent in panic, Tony wonders if his mother has figured out the truth and is testing him. It’s impossible, though. There’s no way for her to know, for either of his parents to know, because if they did, he’s certain that he would have been far more shouting.

“Ok, Anthony?”

Tony knows that when his mother uses that voice, she's very serious, so Tony avoids responding. He doesn’t want to lie, exactly, so it’s best to just not reply really. The best option is to simply change the subject as inconspicuously as possible.

“You said Rhodey is coming to visit tomorrow? How long do they expect me to stay here, exactly?”

“You’ll be here until they discharge you, and not a moment sooner,” his mother responds.

“But, Mama,” he whines. “I don’t want to.”

Maria steps closer to the bed and threads her fingers through his locks, smiling softly.

“Regardless, the doctors would like to observe you. You were quite beat up, and you’ve got to get your strength back.”

Tony frowns at the wobble in his mother's voice. He doesn’t want her to be upset, especially not now that he’s clearly alive and almost well. With wide eyes and an unhappy frown, Tony looks between his parents hoping his sad face will sway them, but his dad catches on instantly and ruffles his hair.

“Until they discharge you,” his father repeats.

“And not a moment sooner, yeah yeah, I get it.”

~

Tony is miserable during his stay in the hospital. He hates the smell and the frigid sheets and the way everything is white. The nurses are kind, but they treat him like a child, and the doctors are kinda rude and dismissive. There’s a genuine chance that it’s because Tony steadfastly refuses to admit he’s in pain. They keep lowering his pain meds, and even when the pain has him gritting his teeth, he still pretends he’s okay.

“Tony, if you’re in pain, the doctors can help. That’s what they’re here for,” Maria had told him.

But the pain wasn’t from anything that the doctors could figure out. The pain, Tony knew, was from the arc reactor, and if he told _them_ that, they’d insist on taking it out and inspecting it, and he would not let another person touch it for the rest of the time he’s forced to live with it in his chest.

The only good thing about anything recently is that Tony has _finally_ been able to fall asleep. He’s probably slept more in the last week than he has in the previous three months in total. It’s been a goddamn blessing, and his parents and Jarvis were so happy that they’d decided to take some rather embarrassing pictures of him while his mouth was hanging open and his hair was ruffled.

“You just looked so precious,” Maria cooed.

“I look like a sleeping dog, Ma. Please don’t show them to anyone. Ever?”

“I won’t, poppet. These’ll be just for me. Promise.”

The kiss on his forehead was not the seal of trust Maria likely thought it was, but Tony was in no position to argue. Besides, Maria wouldn’t leak it to the press. She’d just show it to Aunt Peggy and some of her friends from book club, most of whom Tony loathes for the way they talk to him like a toddler. You fall asleep at the table _one time_ and you’re never allowed to live it down.

“You’re being released early,” Howard says one morning. “I’ve got a personal doctor to move in for a few days, and you’ll be treated from home.”

Excitement at being allowed home aside, Tony feels something cold pool into the pit of his stomach. At first, he fears that maybe it’s because something bad is happening, but when Tony takes stock of the room and the people in it—only himself and his father—he realises that it’s something else. Something less sinister.

His father is distracted.

Howard is a lot of things, but unable to effectively apply dual focus to _anything_ he is not. Furthermore, when his father is talking to Tony, he focuses solely on Tony. He made a promise when Tony was younger that ‘nothing in the world is more important than you’.

So, the only reason he would be distracted is if it’s something _big._

“Dad?”

The edge to Tony’s voice scares him. He doesn’t want to be anxious. Why is that an immediate reaction to anything out of the ordinary now? Is this something he’ll have to get used to? Is that _fair_?

“I… son, I’ve found him.”

Tony’s head tilts in confusion, immediately snapped out of his own inner struggle.

“Found who?”

Howard grins, wide and proud.

“Steve Rogers. I’ve found Captain America.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooooo I'm back on a schedule for this. I'm allowing myself once a week on a Friday so that I'm not overwhelmed with the self-imposed deadlines, but I will casually try to update more often when possible.
> 
> Peace Out,  
> WP


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is healing, but he's also curious.

Chapter Twelve

Tony’s father is too busy for the next three days to answer any of Tony’s many, many questions. Maria is anxious, fretting over Tony and trying to help Howard stay alive while lost in his projects, meetings and whatever else is taking all his time up. For Tony, it’s been mostly dull. He wants to find out what’s going on, be in the thick of the conversation, but his doctor is refusing to let him out of bed, and Rhodey isn’t sharing any information that he knows either.

“Come _on_ , man. Don’t be like that.”

“Don’t be like what?” Rhodey asks, feet propped up on the end of the bed.

“ _Rhodey,_ ” Tony whines, kicking his feet out and holding back a wince when pain flares up across his body.

“Don’t do that,” Rhodey warns, before standing up and tucking Tony back into bed. “Listen, it’s not my place to discuss your fathers work with you, and I’m sure he’ll bring you up to speed when he can. Until then, patience. And stop squirming. You’ll not heal if you don’t stop moving.”

Rhodey doesn’t offer much else, but he does stick around until Tony has fallen back asleep. He has to leave before Tony wakes back up, leaving a note that promises he’ll be back as soon as possible.

Well, Tony doesn’t need Rhodey to explain the bare basics to him. Tony isn’t stupid.

As far as Tony is aware, Howard’s research for the past three decades has finally come to fruition. He’s excited for him, obviously. Howard’s own father had actually known Captain America, so Howard was brought up on the stories and was forced to try and live up to this war hero. The standards were impossible. Howard refused to treat Tony the way his own father had treated him.

Tony had been told for years that the only person he has to outdo is himself.

Which, oddly, is what he’s been trying to do since his Mom went to sleep.

Howard had been gone for the week, and Tony was getting no answers, so he wanted to take the matter into his own hands. He knows he probably shouldn’t, but he decided to hack into his father’s phone in the hopes that he could figure out where he was and what the man was doing.

Curiosity, cat, all that jazz.

The problem is that his father, despite what he may say about Tony, is still the smarter of the two, and in all respects, Tony is still a protégé, an apprentice to the craft. He’s got to be better than himself and better than his old man. Fortunately Tony has Y.I.N.S.E.N for that, and regardless of the apparent disapproval, he’s there to assist.

All in all, it takes barely a day to track where his father has been going in the evenings, and when he gets a location, Tony isn’t sure that it’s accurate. It says that he’s scarcely twenty blocks away, in an old warehouse that Tony always wrote off as being abandoned. But if his Dad is there, then it stands to reason that Captain America is there too.

Tony listens carefully to the house around him and finds that everyone is asleep.

This is the perfect opportunity for him to get a good look at what’s going on. His dad will probably be angry, but that’s only if he gets caught, and Tony is good at creeping around, a fact that Jarvis can attest to. Tony spent the first few years of his life ‘trying to find trouble’ as Jarvis put it, though Tony would argue that he was just looking for something to occupy him.

He sits up and then folds like a deck chair at the pain in his chest. He pulls the collar of his shirt out and stares down at his chest, which is slowly becoming more and more discoloured around the reactor. Tiny black snakes of poison have carved lines out from the reactor and are reaching towards his neck. It’ll be harder to hide soon, and he doesn’t think he can pull off a turtle neck.

Tony pushes his tongue against the back of his front teeth and forces any tears back. He can’t cry about it. Crying won’t help when he needs to focus his energy on finding a cure.

In the meantime, he has to keep it hidden. His parents can’t know. He’s caused them too many problems. This won’t help ease their worries, and if he can help him, making them feel less stress is his aim.

“Sir, might I just voice my disapproval of this particular endeavour?” Y.I.N.S.E.N pipes up as Tony makes his way into his workshop.

“You could,” Tony says with a shrug, “but it won’t stop me.”

“I feared as much.”

Tony steps into the waiting suit and revels in how great it feels, aches and pains aside. He knows it _was_ made just for him, but it’s amazing how perfectly it fits. It’s almost like a second skin, except it makes him look like he’s two feet taller than he actually is, and makes him look like he’s more than just weedy limbs and lank hair.

“Let’s go see what secrets Dad is keeping,” Tony mutters, firing up the repulsors and heading into the night.

~

The secret, it turns out, was that the building Howard was in was actually some kind of top-secret base. Tony couldn’t find a way in from the ground floor, and the security was thicker than peanut butter, so he was forced to try and find an entrance on the roof.

Unfortunately, it was on the roof that Tony found trouble in the form on an archer and a red-haired agent.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, Tony wasn’t in the suit when he was discovered. He’d landed on the roof and begun searching for an entrance when the pain had struck. He felt like he’d been slammed in the chest with an anvil. At his gasped command, Yinsen opens the suit.

Tony fell to the ground, gasping, clutching his chest, one hand covering the reactor and the other braced against the ground. The pain was so bad that he almost started screaming, but at the last second, before he gave himself away, the pain receded, and he collapsed forward.

“Sir,” Y.I.N.S.E.N was calling. “Sir, are you well?”

Tony murmurs his response into the gravel.

“Sir, should I contact emergency services?”

Tony pushes himself up and then freezes when he hears a door opening. He desperately looks to the suit, but it’s too far for him to get to it before he’s discovered.

“Yin, go!” he hisses.

The suit closes up instantly and takes to the sky.

“Is that… hey! Come back!”

Tony turns to the source of the voice and watches as two people come around a large ventilation box.

“What was he doing here?” the blonde man asks.

“Better question,” the red-head asks. “Why is there a child on our roof?”

Tony cringes as their eyes fall on him, and he jumps to his feet.

“Who are you?” Tony asks, feeling brave.

The two people stare at him, and Tony uses their confusion as the time to give them a once over. The red-headed lady is wearing a tight-fitting blue suit, whereas the man is wearing a two-piece suit of similar fabric. Kevlar and leather, he realises.

Maybe the most remarkable thing is that the woman has a single gun strapped to her thigh, but the man is carrying a bow and arrow.

“What are you, a robin hood cosplayer?” Tony snorts.

The man raises a single eyebrow, and the woman’s face remains expressionless.

“You’re Anthony Stark,” the woman says.

“Uh…”

“Oh man, Howard is gonna have a fit. Didn’t he say his kid was supposed to be on bed rest?” The blonde man shakes his head, though there’s a faint smile lighting up his features. “You’re so grounded.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late but here it is!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tries to spy on his dad, but the spies spy on him while he's spying

Tony gulps down confidence and then straightens his shoulders.

“Maybe we keep this between us?” he suggests with a calm shrug that conveys exactly none of his panic. “I can give you money or something?”

The blonde-haired man bursts out in a fit of laughter and shakes his head. With a frown and an openly confused squeak, Tony looks at the woman, who’s stoic expression has not changed since the conversation began.

“Kid, you’re _just_ like your dad. That’s hilarious. If you weren’t about to be locked in your room for breaking into a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, I’d say we could be friends.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D?”

The red head sighs.

“Let’s do introductions and then we can take you to your father. I’m Agent Hill, and this idiot who can’t keep his mouth shut is Agent Barton. This is a _super-secret_ SHEILD facility, and you shouldn’t know it exists, let alone manage to make it on the roof. Did the suit bring you?”

Tony searches the area around him for an answer, but there isn’t one.

“No.”

“Then, how did you get here?”

Tony shrugs.

“Are you saying you don’t know?”

Tony shrugs again.

Agent Hill pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs heavily.

“Kids,” she says under her breath, before adding aloud, “come with us and we’ll go speak with your father.”

This is not how Tony had planned this to go. He had expected more of himself. Despite an absolute lack of experience in this particular area, he’d hoped that he had a natural affinity for stealth.

In his head, admittedly only thirty minutes ago, he’d planned to land on the roof and to abseil down the building until he’d found a window unlatched. From there, it was just a matter of sneaking through the darkened corridors until he found his fathers secret dealings. He’s not sure what they were, but Tony had definitely entertained the idea that maybe he was training Captain America for the twenty-first century.

Maybe Tony had let his imagination run a little wild on this one.

Agent Hill beckons Tony forward, and with reluctant movements, Tony follows them into the building. The outside, which was grey and dirty and dreary, had led Tony to have a fair assumption that the inside would be similar. Even in his imagination, the hallways inside were darkened, and maybe he’d even decided there would be flickering torches mounted to the walls.

He was wrong.

Dead wrong.

The first thing that hit him was the smell of _clean_. The floors were marble, and the walls were long white tiles lined up like soldiers. The lights ahead were bright, and they were a shock from the darkness outside, and they left him blinded. He stumbled into Agent Barton, who chuckled and steadied him as they walked deeper and deeper into the building. Tony is led into an elevator, and they drop down several levels.

He’s not entirely sure if that’s to blame for the swooping in his stomach.

When they step out, it’s more of the same, except now there are boxes of windows scattered along the hallway. Most of them seem to be empty meeting rooms, but one catches his eye and he stops walking, even when the Agents plough on ahead, oblivious.

Through the window he can see Aunt Peggy in a wheelchair next to another man that Tony doesn’t know by name but knows that he has something to do with politics. Howard wants Tony to get to know the local politicians better, but to Tony all they ever do is talk and most of the time it doesn’t make any sense to him.

Tony carefully opens the door, curious to see what is in the big containment box they’re all staring at. Neither of the occupants notice him, and neither do the Agents. Obviously, everyone is very preoccupied, but is that an excuse for them to let a twelve-year-old go running around their ‘super-secret base’?

Tony is doubtful, but his curiosity is stronger than his want to chastise them.

He creeps forward, carefully watching Peggy and the politician talking to themselves at the other end of the room. Tony ducks behind the block, and inside he can hear… a baseball game? Are there people slacking off in there, watching… wait. Tony listens harder. That’s an _old_ game.

Tony, unable to restrain himself, gently eases the door open and steps inside.

What he finds draws breath from his lungs and has him plastered against the door in panic.

_Captain America._

Holy crap, he’s _real,_ and Tony is stood in the same room as him.

Tony looks around, and he feels a prickling of discomfort. The room they’re in is strange. There seems to be old-timey stuff everywhere, and it’s highly disconcerting. The baseball game is playing from an antique radio, and the décor looks like it’s from the forties.

Tony can’t help but suspect that the good Captain hasn’t woken up yet, and they’re planning some kind of trick. He can’t figure out _why_ , though it might be just to keep him calm. It still feels very wrong though, and Tony isn’t sure he wants to be there when it happens.

“Anthony Stark, what on _earth_ do you think you’re doing?”

Tony spins around to find himself facing the angry form of his Aunt Peggy. He steps back, trips over his foot and goes crashing to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't remember it was Friday until five minutes ago. Fortunately, this was an easy update.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope some of my old readers have found this, and I welcome all newbies.
> 
> I look forward to going back on this adventure with you all!
> 
> Love,  
> WritingPains


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